


Sleepless Nights

by what_on_io



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_on_io/pseuds/what_on_io
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lister can't sleep, and he wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to FF.net. An old work that I refuse to delete out of sentimentality.

Three million years into deep space, Dave Lister couldn't sleep.

The worst thing was, it was becoming a regular occurrence. He was beginning to fall asleep at the breakfast table every morning, because it was turning out to be the only place he could actually get any peace. Kryten was starting to have to efficiently snatch the bowl of chicken Vindaloo away before Lister's head would inevitably slump forwards in his slumber. He'd started serving a pillow for breakfast – and the strangest thing was, Lister didn't even seem to notice.

The reason for this lack of sleep wasn't the stress of being the last human alive. It wasn't the fact that the earth that they were heading back to would have probably been destroyed by the time they reached it. It wasn't even the fact that almost everyone he'd ever loved was dead.

It was the noises.

They'd started a few weeks ago – at first, Lister hadn't even noticed. They'd only become apparent when he'd started tossing and turning in his bunk – obviously disturbed on a subconscious level before the rest of his brain caught up. He'd tried everything – he'd tried dragging the pillow over his head, he'd checked the pipes around the sleeping quarters to find nothing out of the ordinary, he'd plugged his ears with cotton wool. He could still hear it. Something between a sob, a humorless laugh and a snort. At first he'd thought Rimmer might be sneaking drugs onboard – he'd even tried searching his drawers when he was gone – but then again, he reasoned, what would a hologram want with drugs anyway? Especially Rimmer – a meticulous follower of rules. He'd given up the fruitless search when he'd emptied the entire contents of Rimmer's cabinet onto the floor and found nothing but old revision notebooks and love letters addressed to the inflatable doll he kept under the bunk.

Kryten had suggested that Lister move to a different room, but he'd been too exhausted to shift all his stuff over, and besides, his own room was perfect, where he'd been ever since he arrived on Red Dwarf. The shower ran at just the right temperature. The window had exactly the right view – the clarity of the countless stars and planetoids wasn't obscured by any parts of the ship jutting out in the way. The food hatch was right around the corner. Even his bunk – which had been such a relief after spending so many nights in a cramped luggage locker – was comfortable enough that in the noise's absence, sleep wasn't interrupted by a squeaky ladder rung or a spring digging into his back. No, he was going to stay right where he was.

And tonight, he would find the source of the noise.

XXX

It was seven o' clock when Lister decided he would turn in early to get a head start on figuring out exactly what was getting to him at night. He was annoyed that he hadn't come up with the idea before – it was perfect, he'd get there before Rimmer did so that he could either prove that it was he who was making the noise – maybe to purposely take the smeg – or otherwise eliminate the possibility.

He made his excuses to the others and left the table where he and the Cat had been drinking, and where Kryten had been dusting around and fussing with the remnants of dinner. Rimmer had been absent for this particular meal – he'd gone to one of the observation decks to 'look at the stars', apparently. Lister had hardly noticed, and hardly conversed with anyone while he picked at his curry and thought about his plan. He put it down to lack of sleep that he had only just that morning thought of a plan that would get him out of this mess once and for all – once he'd located the noise, he could put a stop to it. It was as simple as that. A faulty pipe – he could deal with it. An intruder – likewise. Aliens – as Rimmer would probably theorize – might take a little longer, but he'd get a good night's sleep if it was the last thing he ever did.

Lister actually found himself humming as he strolled down the corridor to the sleeping quarters. It felt good, knowing that the ordeal would soon be over.

"Lights!" he ordered, and the lights flashed on, revealing an empty and silent room. He changed into a pair of pyjamas that had only been worn for a month and a half, brushed his teeth, and climbed up into his bunk before ordering the lights off again. He settled back onto the mattress and plumped the pillow up a little behind his head, fully prepared for the noise to start up as soon as he closed his eyes. One more small, contended sigh, and Lister did so.

Nothing.

The silence was blissful. Lister reveled in it for a few minutes before the implications of the silence settled in – this meant that either the sound had stopped for good, or that his bunkmate was causing it.

Lister decided to stay awake until Rimmer came to bed – which proved to be a ridiculously difficult task. Lister found his eyes drifting shut every time he moved to sit up in bed. In the end, he turned the lights back on and attempted to watch a movie until he literally could not stay awake a second longer. He figured he would wake up once the noise began anyway, and reluctantly ordered both the vidscreen and the lights off again, and fell into a deep sleep with his head at the wrong side of the bed.

XXX

It was three perfect hours of peaceful, uninterrupted slumber before the sound started. As predicted, Lister was awoken almost immediately, and sat bolt upright in bed, blinking sleep from his eyes and pushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

"Rimmer?" Lister hissed, peering down in the darkness at his bunkmate, who was just a lump under the duvet on the bottom bunk. No reply. As quietly as he could muster, Lister lowered himself down the ladder, urging his footsteps to be silent as he tiptoed across the room to crouch beside Rimmer's bunk. The sound grew louder as he did so – it did seem to be coming from his friend's bed. Lister frowned, slowly and carefully peeling back the blanket to reveal Rimmer's pale form. He was almost tempted to turn on the lights, either to get a better look or to simply wake him, but that was before he realized.

Rimmer was _crying._


	2. Chapter Two

At first, it appeared that Rimmer was awake, with his back to the room. However, upon further inspection, Lister realized that his bunkmate's eyes were closed, and he was clearly having some sort of nightmare.

It occurred to Lister that he had never once seen Rimmer cry before. Once it might have even amused him, if he wasn't so terrified. Whatever was going on, it couldn't be good. Lister surprised himself when he felt something close to concern for Rimmer. It had certainly never happened before – this was the man who smiled whenever he was insulted, who could give back just as good as he got. The guy was such a smeghead, it was physically impossible to feel anything in the same stratosphere as compassion towards him… yet that was exactly what was happening. It was deeper than pity – it felt to Lister that somewhere, deep down, he actually cared for the man.

Lister didn't even think – he simply sprung into action, thankful that Rimmer hadn't switched to soft-light to preserve energy while he slept, so that he could shake his shoulder. For a few seconds, Lister was afraid that his bunkmate wasn't going to wake up, and that he'd be stuck with the knowledge that he was lying on the bed beneath his sobbing for all he was worth, but eventually Rimmer stirred, moving groggily into a sitting position. Lister rocked back on his heels, still crouched beside his bed, frowning as he waited for Rimmer to finish rubbing his eyes and to look at him.

"Lister?" he asked, matching Lister's worried expression, "What time is it?"

Lister checked the clock on the side – it was just past one in the morning. What kind of time was that for Rimmer to be coming to the sleeping quarters? It wasn't like there was much to do on the ship when everyone else was sleeping, unless he'd gone to hide out in the cinema, and somehow that didn't seem likely.

"One," Lister muttered, his voice still thick with his own interrupted slumber. Rimmer's frown deepened.

"Did something happen? Is there a fire?! Are we abandoning ship?!" Panic rising in his voice, Rimmer leapt from the bed and launched into a frantic state, appearing to deliberate between fleeing and pausing to ask more questions. Lister fought not to roll his eyes.

"There's no fire. Everythin's fine, calm down," Lister muttered, straightening up. Rimmer sighed audibly.

"Then why did you wake me up at one in the morning?!"

"Wake you up? You were only in bed five minutes! Besides, you- you were-"

"I was what? Go on, spit it out, Listy!" Rimmer demanded, folding his arms across his chest defiantly. Lister narrowed his eyes – here he was, the same old smeghead. It nearly wiped away the sympathy he'd experienced just moments before.

"Well… You were cryin'," Lister admitted, slightly stunned when he realized saying it out loud didn't make him feel superior as it may once have done. Seeing a look of simultaneous confusion and embarrassment cross over Rimmer's face just felt a bit, well… mean.

"I was not," he said defensively, deliberately avoiding Lister's eyes. Lister flopped onto the bottom bunk and nodded sadly.

"Get off my bed, Lister! I don't want your leftover curry flaking off onto the sheets. Get off!" Rimmer demanded, ushering Lister onto the floor, where he sat cross-legged, still looking up at his bunkmate, making it clear that his attempt at a distraction from the subject hadn't worked. Rimmer sighed again, this time sounding a little more defeated, and perched where Lister had just been lounging.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" Lister asked, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing's wrong. What could possibly be wrong?" Rimmer's voice was raised, his eyes were darting around as if he was searching for an escape, as if he was glued to the bed and had nowhere to go.

"I dunno, Rimmer, you tell me."

"It's nothing! It's just- just-"

"Just…? Just wha'?"

"Why are you acting like you care, anyway, Lister? It's not as if you've ever expressed any concern over the matter before. If the noise is keeping you awake, you could always move rooms!"

"Trust me, it's not like I haven't thought about it," Lister muttered, "But I like it in 'ere. Besides, I didn't actually know it was you who was makin' the noise at first. I thought it might be a leaky pipe or somethin'. Or Kryten singin' again when he was doin' the laundry." Lister's pathetic attempt to lighten the mood fell on deaf ears – Rimmer didn't even try to smile.

"See? You don't actually care. I'm not going to discuss this with you, Lister – if you like it so much in here, I'll move next door."

"Oh, smeggin' hell, Rimmer! What's it gonna take to show you that I actually do care? D'you want me to write you a long, sappy poem? Or a song, I could do you a song!" Lister went to grab his guitar but Rimmer snatched his hand away.

"You lay one smegging finger on that thing and I'll break it off," he threatened, remembering the countless occasions on which Lister had broken into song. He'd had a headache for a whole week afterwards. Why the man was convinced he could play the thing, Rimmer would never know. How could anyone think that his strumming the identical strings that were in all the wrong places sounded good?

Lister grinned, knowing he'd won the argument. Rimmer lay down on his bunk with one arm resting under his head and stared past Lister at the wall opposite until he'd regained his composure enough to speak without stammering.

"It's been going on for a few weeks now, the nightmares. They're always the same. I'm just sitting in a room, but it's dark, and there are no lights. And my mother's there," Rimmer took a breath, mostly to steady himself, "She's just talking to me. Telling me what a failure I am and how I'll never be as good as my brothers because I'm smegging dead. And she says how I disappointed my father was when he heard I was just a technician, that I'd never be an officer. Said I put him in an early grave. And then she reminds me of how I'm stuck in the middle of space with three people who can't stand me, who think I'm such an absolute smeghead that they'd rather Holly had brought someone as revolting as Petersen back as a hologram, just to get a smegging break from me. I might as well be really dead, for all the good I'm doing here. It's useless. Even Kryten can't stand me, and he's just a smegging mechanoid!"

Lister opened his mouth to remind Rimmer that it was comments like that that made him such a smeghead, but he was cut off before the first word was out.

"I know, Lister, I know. I am a complete and utter smeghead – I know. I don't mean to be- It's just the way I am. Anyway – I don't think I can take this anymore. Not just the nightmares, although they're smegging awful – everything. Floating around in the middle of nowhere, millions of years away from any form of civilization with people who'd switch me off for a shot with a woman they've never spoken to. I can't stand it, Lister. So… I've been thinking. I'm going to ask Holly to switch me off and eject my disk into space. Then you can make your dream life with Kochanski and live happily ever after on Fiji."

Lister was rendered speechless for a minute, and by the time he'd managed to stop gaping and actually say something, Rimmer was pacing frantically up and down the room.

"Rimmer… You can't mean that," Lister whispered, still unable to comprehend exactly what Rimmer was saying. He'd refused to be switched off even when Lister planned to go into stasis for the second time – what could possibly be so awful that he wanted to be turned off and erased permanently?

"Rimmer – no-one wants you dead, man, you know that! It's these nightmares, they're gettin' to ya. We'll sort somethin' out, we can ask Kryten if he knows anythin'-"

"No! Promise me you won't tell anyone about this, Lister. I can't cope with the Cat sneering at me even more than he normally does. I can't deal with the questions they'll ask, Lister. You have to promise."

"Then promise you won't ask Hol to switch you off," Lister demanded. Rimmer shifted his gaze to the ground and chewed his bottom lip awkwardly.

"Fine. I won't. Just don't say anything, okay? As- as a friend, please don't tell anyone about this."

Lister was deeply touched by Rimmer's use of any sort of affectionate term, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he simply said, "Okay, man, I won't. Promise."

A few minutes of sitting in silence led to Lister raising the next question, "Rimmer…" he began, feeling slightly awkward about the whole thing, "Is that why you've been coming to bed late? Because you didn't want to go to sleep?"

Rimmer looked guiltily at the bed and said nothing. In truth, it was only part of the reason. The other part was too humiliating to even think about, never mind voicing his thoughts out loud. He was avoiding going back to the sleeping quarters to spend time with Lister alone because he couldn't stand lying alone in the darkness knowing that just above him, his bunkmate slept soundly, not experiencing the same horrible thoughts that had been plaguing him for a few months now. Something he'd never felt before, not even close to this. Could it possibly be… attraction? To that slob? The man who ate curry for breakfast and wore his clothes for months on end? Who never bathed? Who hardly ever showered, who was lucky if he flossed once a year?

"Rimmer?" Lister asked, concern creasing his brow, "If you don't wanna talk about it, we could always just go down to the AR suite and shoot some zombies or somethin'. Take your mind off things."

Rimmer looked down at the man sitting on the floor in front of him, who hadn't slept in weeks because of the infernal racket Rimmer himself was making, and who was still offering to give up precious hours of rest so that he wouldn't have to suffer through another awful nightmare.

Yes – it was definitely attraction. Perhaps even bordering on, and he hated to say it, love.


	3. Chapter Three

The AR suite reflected the rest of the ship – empty and dark, with no trace of anyone ever having been there – until Lister and Rimmer entered. Rimmer ordered the lights on before Lister could open his mouth to speak, and the eerie glow settled across the machinery and cast sinister shadows across the floor. Even with the lights blaring, the room still seemed unsettlingly dark.

Ignoring the feeling of unease buried in the pit of his stomach, Lister strode over to the games cabinet and started rummaging for something casual that would take Rimmer's mind off his impending nightmares.

In the end, it seemed to be a rather difficult choice between a world war forty nine shooter or, based on the game box, something that looked like several people being chased by some sort of giant, mutant zombie plant. Lister was just about to toss the boxes at Rimmer and ask him which he'd rather play when another box caught his eye.

"Hey, what's this?" Lister murmured, reaching into the corner of the games cabinet where it appeared to have fallen and plucking the box free, "Dreamscope," he muttered, to nobody in particular. He quickly scanned the back of the box, hardly surprised when the description basically matched the title.

"'Ever wanted to relive your dreams? Ever wanted to share them with your friends? Well, now you can, in the all new Dreamscope – the latest technology in the study of dream psychology.'," Lister read aloud, and made a contemplative sound, "Rimmer-"

"No!" Rimmer replied without allowing him to finish the sentence, "No way. Not in a billion years."

"But-"

"No!"

"What if-"

"No!"

"Not even if-"

"No!"

"All right, all right! Forget it. It was just an idea."

"It was a ridiculous idea," Rimmer snapped, "Why on Io would I want to go back to that place while I'm aware of it?!"

"I just thought it might help. Y'know, help you get over it. If someone was there with you."

"You? Have you in there with me? Have you gone completely mad, Lister? Why would I let you see the most personal details of my life? Have you in there with me?!" Rimmer scoffed, shaking his head almost manically at the proposal. Lister tried his best not to look offended as he replaced the boxes on the shelf with trembling hands.

"I was only tryna help, man. I'll go, if you're so repulsed by the thought of havin' me here."

"Oh, Lister, I didn't mean it like that-" Rimmer called after him, trying to catch up before Lister rounded the corner and left the room. He caught his shoulder just as he was about to step over the threshold and Lister whirled around to face him.

"What d'you want, Rimmer? You obviously don't wanna be anywhere near me, so I'm goin' to bed to see if I can actually get some sleep before mornin'." He once again tried to turn away from his bunkmate and to storm down the corridor, only to once again have Rimmer call after him.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it," he pleaded in a desperate attempt to get Lister to return. Thankfully, before Lister had gotten too far away to hear him, he paused, then slowly and suspiciously turned to glare at Rimmer.

"Really?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes," Rimmer sighed, resigned to his fate. He asked himself why the hell he was agreeing to this – it wasn't as if he and Lister hadn't argued before – and decided it was the exhaustion catching up to him, "It's not like it's going to work anyway."

XXX

Ten minutes later, Lister was suited up and ready to go, and Holly was preparing to enter Rimmer into the game, still peeved that she had been disturbed from her own rest. Once she felt she'd complained just about enough, she bid the pair goodnight and disappeared from the screen, leaving a few seconds of awkward silence before they were transported from reality to a place much darker.

It took another few minutes to program into the menu that it was Rimmer's dream that they were trying to access, and then another, more pressing darkness descended.

"You do realize this is probably all just a scam? As if this cheap thing can actually show you your dreams. We're suckers for falling for it, really. It's never going to work," Rimmer was saying as the menu faded. Nothing happened for a few seconds.

"See, Lister? Ridiculous. I told you it would never work, it's probably crashed. You're going to have to wake up Holly and get her to get me out of here, and she's not going to like that – we've already interrupted her sleep once-"

"Shut up, Rimmer," Lister hissed, "It's startin'."

And so it was. A room began to take shape – if you could call it a room, really. It was actually just a cube. A cube big enough to fit four people, but a cube nonetheless. It was just light enough to make out a table in the center, with a chair on either side and a woman sitting across from the man who was unmistakably Rimmer. Lister and non-dream Rimmer stood off in the corner, watching on, slightly awestruck. It had been a success! They were in! This was actually Rimmer's dream.

In pure dreamlike fashion, the cube's edges were slightly blurred, as if Rimmer's imagination hadn't cared enough about their surroundings to bother forming it properly. The desk was missing two legs and one of the chair seats was simply hovering in mid air.

"Whoa, this is surreal, man!" Lister announced, moving to stand in front of Rimmer's mother and waving a hand in front of her face. She didn't react.

"I guess we can't interact with anyone in the dream," Lister commented, stepping back from the incomplete table and moving towards Rimmer again, who was standing with tension radiating from his shoulders and his arms folded across his chest. He glanced worriedly at the dream-Rimmer sitting at the desk and then down to his shoes.

Rimmer's mother started to speak, slowly and with poison dripping from her words, "I've been speaking with your father," she said, twirling a strand of her hair around her index finger, "About how disappointed we are." She paused, took a deep breath and let it out again, turning to stare across the room at nothing in particular.

Lister sent a quizzical glance towards Rimmer, and whispered, "I thought your dad was dead?"

"We're getting to that," Rimmer hissed back, frowning at the scene unfolding in front of him. Maybe the worst wouldn't happen. Maybe he would have this conversation with his mother and then it would be over, or maybe he could then convince Lister that it was over. It felt so strange, to watch his own dream in such clarity, to realize how much was actually missing – not only the features in the room, but his mother's habits and mannerisms – instead of constantly fiddling with the hem of her skirt and ironing out the creases in her blouse with her fingers, she was simply staring into space and crossing and uncrossing her legs every few seconds.

"He wanted me to tell you that he's very upset with you, Arnold. Incredibly upset. He told me to ask you if it felt good, knowing that he was lowered into his grave knowing that you're just a technician on a mining ship."

"Of course it doesn't feel good, mother. But father's dead now, you should stop talking to him, he was buried so long ago."

"It's none of your business whether or not I talk to my husband!" the woman snapped, eyes widening and flickering across the room, filled with obvious paranoia, "You don't know what it's like to lose someone you love."

"This isn't making much sense," Lister pointed out, with confusion still painted clearly across his face. Rimmer sighed, exasperated.

"Of course it isn't making sense – it's a dream. It's not supposed to make sense. Why else d'you think the table isn't falling over with only two legs?"

Lister just shrugged, "It just seems like your mum's crazy, that's all."

"Oh, she is, Listy, she is. Completely mad. It's just that her communicating with my dead father is one of the more sane things she's done."

"I told him about the accident, Arnold. I told him that you caused it. He was so disappointed. If you could just do one thing right… Just one. But now you're dead, too. First your father, now you. Why they brought you back as a hologram I'll never understand. Your brothers… even they were perplexed. A waste of space and energy, if you ask me. Even a waste of fuel, I suppose. Oh, Arnold. You've made such a mess of things, love." At this point, Rimmer's mother reached out to touch her son's face, but her fingers didn't quite reach and she simply caressed the air next to his cheek, "It was a mistake. Three boys was enough – I should have stopped there. I was taking on too much."

Rimmer tried to disguise the flash of pain in his eyes at this comment, making sure his face was angled away from Lister as he did so. He needed to show him that he was hardly fazed by his being not wanted – that it no longer mattered to him.

But Lister cared more than he was letting on – he placed a reassuring hand on Rimmer's arm and tried to catch a glimpse of something – anything – hidden in his blank expression. Upon finding nothing, Lister averted his gaze to the floor and tried not to let Rimmer see the horror painted in his own expression.

"It was bad enough when we found out about… Well, you know what about. Do you know what we went through with you as a teenager, Arnold? It was hell! Hell, for me and your father!"

Lister expected Rimmer to explode – either in the dream or not – but he just stood in the corner, frozen, watching his mother rant. She was still wearing that distant expression, staring past her son rather than at him, while she prattled on about nonsense. If Lister had actually understood what was going on, he might have been shocked. He might have widened his eyes slightly and tried to hide it, or he might have freaked out and demanded to leave the game. All of this was running through Rimmer's mind as he watched – knowing exactly what was coming but dreading it all the same.

Another few seconds of silence, building up to the point Rimmer feared so much. He kept his gaze trained on the floor, refusing to watch, refusing to look anywhere but that slightly darker patch of ground than the rest of it.

"I mean – gay, Arnold! What were you thinking? Didn't you know that it would destroy your father? And your whole life, tainted by… That." Another deep breath, in which Rimmer took a complete step backwards as if he could simply push his way through the semi-formed walls and out of the dream.

"Your brothers were all off getting married and having children and successful careers, and you- We tried to blame it on the school, you know. If you had only passed a few exams then maybe you wouldn't be where you are now. Maybe you would have a decent job, if nothing else, but your- condition even got in the way of that. If you had concentrated more on your studies instead of those boys making fun of you, maybe you could have achieved something, Arnold. Been somebody."

Lister was painfully silent during this whole exchange. Rimmer kept sneaking glances at his face, but his expression revealed nothing – he simply appeared to be watching the scene unfold in front of him, waiting expectantly for Rimmer himself to say something. Well that certainly wasn't going to happen any time soon. At least it would be over soon, he assured himself. At least in another few minutes he would be standing back in the AR suite and then he could just run through to the sleeping quarters and hide under a pillow until everyone else was dead and there would be no-one left to remind him of this horrible incident.

"I'm sorry," dream-Rimmer told his mother, sparking a slight frustration-fueled tightening around Lister's eyes Even from his stance behind him, Rimmer could see his fists were clenched as if he was gearing up for a fight.

"Sorry," Rimmer's mother echoed. Her voice was beginning to sound incredibly far away – a sign that the dream was fading, surely? – "Everybody's sorry, Arnold. It doesn't change anything."

And then, finally, it was over.

XXX

Both men found themselves back in the AR suite, sitting in the exact same positions they had been in when they left it. Rimmer didn't seem to be actively seeing the room around him, but rather appeared to be somewhere else entirely – probably, Lister thought, back in that God-awful nightmare.

"Rimmer, man? You all right?" he asked, although he knew he was anything but. Rimmer started to nod, but gave up halfway through, as if it really wasn't worth the effort to lie.

"Not really," he said, as calmly as he could muster, wiping at imaginary lint on his trousers. Lister tried not to reveal anything in his eyes as he stood and walked slowly across to him.

"She was wrong, ya know. About… Well, about everything, but I mean… You are somebody, Rimmer. Maybe that somebody can be a complete smeghead most of the time, but you're a good person inside."

Rimmer just scoffed, still not looking up, still refusing to catch Lister's eye. Lister sighed heavily and sat down beside his friend, not knowing exactly how to comfort him but trying anyway.

"I never knew, y'know. About… the other thing."

"What other thing?" Rimmer asked, tensing and drawing back slightly. Lister winced at the obvious attempt at playing innocent, and looked down at his shoes.

"Y'know!"

"No, Lister, quite frankly, I don't. If you're referring to… the last thing my mother happened to mention, how you can believe such an obvious lie that my subconscious for some reason managed to dream up, I'll never know!" Rimmer snorted, still inclining his body away from Lister, who was so persistent in his concern it was both touching and annoying at the same time.

"So it's not true, then," Lister stated, molding the sentence into a statement rather than a query. He wasn't going to push it. If Rimmer didn't want to, or physically couldn't, admit the truth, then it wasn't his business to pry, however much he would have liked to. After enduring that agonizing conversation night after night, nobody deserved to be pressed for such delicate information, not even Rimmer.

"Of course it's not true! What d'you take me for?! Do you really think I would have disgraced my entire family like that, for something so trivial?"

"Disgraced 'em?" Lister asked, frowning, "Your folks are insane, Rimmer. If you grew up believin' that basically your whole existence was wrong, then yours must have been an incredibly messed up family," and then, as an afterthought, "If you can even call it a family."

"I'm not gay!" Rimmer exploded, wringing his hands as if he could simply will Lister to believe what he was saying, "I-I'm not!"

"Okay," Lister said simply, "Whatever you say, man."

"I'm not gay, Lister," Rimmer repeated. A nod from Lister, and then something inside Rimmer broke, and he began to speak in a flurry of jumbled words and increasingly worried tones, "I told them at the dinner table, as if I expected them to just… accept it, or something. As if they had that much compassion in them. It was a mistake just announcing it like that, with my brothers in the room. It was all my own fault. They told everyone at school the next day, that their brother Bonehead is gay. The insults went on and on for months on end, it was hell. I tried to run away once, knowing full well I wouldn't get away with it, even though my parents never wanted me anyway. I was never brilliant at anything like my brothers were. I never aced exams or learned to play an instrument or a sport. I was useless, Listy, completely useless. And then that, on top of everything else. The insults, the taunting… it never stopped, not for a second."

"Oh." This seemed to be all that Lister could force out of his mouth after hearing this heartfelt and rushed speech. He begged his brain to come up with something more meaningful, but it seemed to be taking a temporary vacation from his skull.

"Go on, then. Ridicule me. Insult me. Go on, Listy, I can take it."

Lister just stared, dumbfounded, as if this equaled a deep comment or a poetic remark. Then, eventually, his mind caught up with the, quite frankly ridiculous, conversation he appeared to be having with Rimmer, and he managed to choke out, "It's fine. I mean- I don't have a problem with it."

Rimmer looked genuinely surprised – as if the last thing he expected was to have Lister on his side. Then he cleared his throat, stood up, straightened his clothes and said, "Right, then. We'd better be getting-" He checked his watch, "-to breakfast, it seems. It's almost morning. Not worth going back to bed now."

And that was that.


	4. Chapter Four

By the time Lister had busied himself with showering and both men had groomed themselves into slightly more respectable looking people instead of sleep-deprived zombies, Rimmer and Lister made their way through to the dining table, where Kryten was busily setting the table, humming a cheery song under his breath as he did so. The mechanoid glanced up as they entered the room and beamed massively.

"Ah, Mr. Lister, sir. I've made your favourite – chicken Vindaloo with poppadum's," Kryten announced, scraping a chair back for Lister to sit down in. For once, he was glad of the mechanoid's willingness to serve – simply because if he was left to his own devices he would probably have just slumped on the floor and slept.

Lister smiled at Kryten (or at least, he hoped it was a smile – it might have gotten muddled on its way from his brain to his mouth) and plopped gratefully into the chair while Rimmer strode around the table to sit opposite.

"I don't know how you can stand to eat that stuff for breakfast, Lister. In fact, I don't know how you can face it three times a day – but this early in the morning? You should try some cereal, something high in fibre and energy, to get you ready to face the day ahead!" Rimmer had launched straight into his usual early-morning lecture already, steepling his fingers on the tabletop and frowning condescendingly at Lister, who had already begun to devour the curry placed in front of him. He tried to speak through a mouthful of poppadum and mango chutney, but the words came out as mush.

"What, Lister? Didn't quite catch that," Rimmer said curtly, rubbing his hands together as Kryten placed his own bowl of dull brown cereal in front of him, "Ah, see what you're missing out on, Lister? A good ol' bowl of bran-flakes. What could be better?"

"Somethin' that comes out of a dog's behind," Lister replied, wiping his mouth with his t-shirt. Only a few stains on this one – a record. Not for long, though – now it had a large, Vindaloo-coloured stripe right across the front.

"Did somebody say dog?" the Cat swept gracefully into the room and checked his appearance in a hand-mirror before ruining the whole charade by collapsing into a chair with about as much poise as a sack of potatoes. He stretched his arms above his head, licked his lips indulgently and almost knocked Rimmer's spoon right out of his hand.

"I was just sayin' how revoltin' Rimmer's idea of a hearty breakfast meal is," Lister smirked, and the Cat squinted at the bowl for a second before rolling his eyes, apparently prematurely bored of the conversation. It wasn't long before a plate of steaming fish was delivered to him, and there wasn't much talking as the group ate in a companionable silence.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" Lister inquired after disposing of his plate. He was almost eager to get the day underway, as if he could simply erase the memory of the previous night by imploring his mind to be occupied with navigating their slow course across space.

"Well, sir, I have three stacks of laundry that I've simply been storing for an occasion such as this! I'm going to be ironing for hours, Mr. Lister!" Kryten explained, sounding entirely pleased by the prospect. Lister tried not to look disgusted with the mechanoid's altruism, and failed.

"I meant what's on the agenda for us. Any black holes we need to keep an eye out for? Any planetoids in the vicinity? Some asteroids to navigate our way around?"

"Erm, no, sir, I'm afraid not. However, I'm sure you can find a way to occupy yourselves – how about another round of imaginary strip poker?"

Lister thought back to that night when they had been so bored out of their minds that they had resorted to imagining female crew members (well, perhaps not in Rimmer's case) taking their clothes off while playing poker. That was a game he never intended to attempt again.

"Er, I'm sure we'll find somethin', yeah," Lister muttered, blushing furiously at the reminder of such an embarrassing night. He leapt up from the table and looked desperately around, waiting for something distracting to grab his attention. Unfortunately, as is often the case, nothing did.

The truth was, all Lister wanted to do was sleep. It was one of his many talents. If he had been lying down, he would already be completely out of it, there was no question about it. He wanted to drag himself back to the sleeping quarters and flop face-down on his bunk and sleep until he was fully rested. He tried to remember the last time he hadn't been exhausted – it was probably last month, now. He groaned, turning away from the group at the table, and stared out of a nearby window into the blackness of space. It was so smegging boring out here. There was nothing to do. He'd read all the magazines they owned, he'd played every game they could think up, and he'd annoyed Rimmer so much with his awful guitar playing that he'd screamed and left the room. There was nothing else to do, unless he wanted to have another long and boring discussion with Holly about the possibility of a parallel universe consisting entirely of grilled cheese.

And he was still trying to get over the previous night. It was so strange, being able to see right into another person's subconscious, and Rimmer's at that. Not just what it had revealed, but the fact that Rimmer had to deal with all of that, all the time. No wonder he was constantly aggravating.

To tell the truth, Lister wasn't completely sure how to act around Rimmer now. He knew that nothing had changed, really. It wasn't as if he was going to leap on him in the middle of the night and start humping his leg like a horny teenager. It wasn't even the whole gay thing that Lister was primarily concerned about – it was mainly the fact that he was worried about his friend. That nightmare was more than just a nightmare, it was a living hell. Having to stand there and witness what Rimmer put up with every night made Lister certain of one thing – nobody deserved that. What if Rimmer really wanted to be switched off? The holographic equivalent to suicide, surely. As much as Rimmer got on his nerves, Lister honestly couldn't imagine the slow journey back to Earth without him cowering away from conflict or making snide remarks at his breakfast choices. It was weird. Although sometimes he prayed for some form of salvation when Rimmer was making digs at every little thing he did – from humming to whistling to sleeping too much – he didn't mean it, not really.

Eventually, Kryten hurried off to do the laundry, and Lister was left with Rimmer and the Cat, trying to think of something brilliant to do. They sat there for a whole twenty minutes, staring at the walls and occasionally crying out as if they had thought of something, only to then decide that it wasn't a good enough suggestion and say 'it was nothing' before descending into silence again.

"You two are killin' my buzz! I'm gonna go take another shower. It's been nearly forty five minutes since my last one! See ya, buds," the Cat suddenly declared, leaping from his chair and gliding out of the room as elegantly as when he entered it. Rimmer rolled his eyes.

"That creature is so vehemently narcissistic he could put narcissus himself to shame," he tsked. Lister made a sound of agreement before resting his chin on his hands and trying to look alert.

"There's gotta be somethin' that needs doin'! Why is it that as soon as there's nothin' fun to do, there's no cleanin' that needs to be done, either?"

"No cleaning to be done? Lister, have you seen the Drive room lately? It's coated with dust! I'm surprised you can still breathe in there without coming out with a ruined lung."

"Yeah, but that's borin'."

"You said you wanted to clean, Lister. There's an option for you, right there."

"I don't want to clean. It's either that or sit here until I fall asleep, which'll be pretty soon if the conversation is as riveting as this!"

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?" Rimmer asked, almost immediately regretting asking the question. Lister smirked slightly, relaxing slowly in his chair and crossing his arms deliberately over his chest.

"We could play truth or dare," Lister grinned. Rimmer made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

"I hate truth or dare," he announced. Lister continued to smirk.

"Well I like it. And you asked what I wanted to talk about."

"I meant talk, Listy, not engage in childish games. Hold interesting and intellectually demanding conversations. Question the meaning of life. I certainly didn't intend to get caught up in a petty argument with you about how playing truth or dare doesn't constitute a viable conversational topic!"

"Aww, come on, Rimmer! Live a little! It'll be fun, promise," Lister declared, standing up and fetching an empty lager bottle from breakfast. He laid it down in the center of the table and beamed at Rimmer, who was beginning to resemble a very small deer caught in a set of gigantic headlights.

"I don't think this corresponds to my idea of fun, Listy, but fine. I'll play," Rimmer said begrudgingly. Lister was starting to look so smug that his refusal to play might just have been the slap across the face he needed – but Rimmer wasn't that cruel.

"All right! So d'you wanna go first?"

"What's the point in spinning the bottle when there's only two of us?" Rimmer asked, stalling. Lister shrugged.

"So we don't have to bother takin' turns. It's more excitin' this way, trust me. Who knows where it's gonna land?"

"Well, I'd say that's a fairly difficult equation… Something like, ooh… Hmm… Fifty-fifty, maybe?"

Lister made an exasperated sound and sat down again, nudging Rimmer gently on the shoulder to show that this was all just friendly banter. He reached out to spin the lager bottle and they watched it revolve slowly around the table, eventually coming to a stop in front of Rimmer.

"Okay – your turn! Truth or dare?"

Rimmer thought for a minute. Either way, he was doomed. If he chose dare, Lister would no doubt make him perform some humiliating task, and it made Rimmer shudder to think of all the possibilities of a truth. His mind fought an internal battle for a few seconds before he replied, "Dare."

"Ooh, okay. I dare you… to steal a pile of Kryten's laundry!"

The dare seemed simple enough, if a little mean. It wasn't even embarrassing. They'd simply sneak down to the laundry room two decks below and Lister would hide while Rimmer somehow distracted the mechanoid and ran away with a pile of freshly ironed garments.

Lister slid behind a thick metal pipe and watched as Rimmer rapped three times upon the door to the laundry room. Kryten answered with a chirpy 'oh, hello, sir!' and allowed Rimmer inside. The door slid closed behind them, and Lister waited a full thirty seconds before Rimmer left the room with a towering pile of whites under his arm, whistling a tune.

"There, Listy. That's how it's done!"

"Brutal, man! How did ya do it?"

"Well, I, er, I went inside and I, erm, I showed Kryten something he'd missed in the corner, and, erm, when he was, er, picking it up, I, er, I stole the… laundry," Rimmer finished pathetically after seeing the 'I'm-not-fooled' expression Lister was wearing.

"You cheated, didn't ya? You just went in and asked if you could take the laundry, didn't ya?!"

"No!" Rimmer cried, "You honestly think I'd resort to cheating, Lister? At a game of truth or dare? That's preposterous!"

"Oh, admit it, man! You cheated."

"I did not!" he insisted, completely indignant, "How little you think of me, Listy!"

Lister dismissed the conversation with a flick of his wrist and marched towards the elevator at the end of the corridor, jamming his thumb into the pad that would signal it. Once they were back upstairs, Lister leaned against the table and said, "Right, because you cheated, you get a forfeit! I dare you, Rimmer, to drink a six pack of extra-strength lager without belching, puking or goin' to the loo!"

"Right, then! I will," Rimmer grumbled, accepting the can thrust at him. He cracked the seal and glugged the whole thing down, hardly pausing for breath in between gulps. Impressed, Lister offered him the next can, which he guzzled with the same amount of vigor as he had the first. By the fourth can, Rimmer was struggling to keep the contents of his stomach down. Even when he was alive, he hadn't gotten drunk much. He didn't have any friends to go drinking with, unless he decided to take Lister up on his offers to introduce him to half the female population of the ship in the hope of him securing a date, way before the events of last night had reared their ugly heads. He never had, unsurprisingly.

The sixth and final can, and Rimmer was just about ready to give up. He'd never felt so warm and fuzzy in his life – only now the edges of the room were beginning to blur, as if he was being dragged back into that nightmare. He struggled to keep himself centered, clutching the edge of the table for support as he chugged the final drop of the liquid down.

"Done!" he announced, slamming the empty can back on the table. Lister was still smiling, decidedly astonished by Rimmer's newfound talent.

When enough time had apparently passed for him to be out of vomiting territory, they restarted the game, with Rimmer blissfully intoxicated. It was fun, actually, when Rimmer actually relaxed. They stuck to dares – ranging from ordering the most ridiculous meal they could think up from one of the food dispensers and forcing the other to eat it, to jumping from assorted high-rising machinery.

Soon, Lister was drunk, too, and a few moments passed between him asking Rimmer to choose truth or dare and Rimmer's actual reply. Finally, his voice barely audible, he said, "Truth."

They were both seemingly taken aback by this decision. Lister had an idea what he wanted to ask, however, and, hardly pausing to think about the consequences, he aired his question, "Who do you like? Like like, not just like," he explained through barely masked, girlish giggles. His speech was slurred, and he clearly wasn't thinking. They probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning, Rimmer reasoned before preparing to give his reply. One word, that would be all it took. One word that could either destroy or build a whole relationship. It never even occurred to Rimmer that he could lie – his brain didn't seem to be working properly. So, gathering all his courage, he croaked, "You."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Eventually, without saying a word, Lister reached out to spin the bottle again, and Rimmer had never wanted to disappear more than he did in that moment. He prayed that the ground would swallow him up, or that some disaster would occur in the hologram suite and his disk would be inadvertently destroyed.

The bottle stopped on Rimmer, again. At first, he didn't think Lister would ask the question, but he did, and this time Rimmer played it safe by choosing dare. Another few seconds of agonizing silence, before Lister said, "I dare you… to kiss me."

In Lister's mind, he wasn't even thinking that it might not be healthy to mess with Rimmer's emotions like this. All he could think about was the rush he had felt when Rimmer had said 'you'. Lister wasn't, or previously hadn't been, gay. His infatuation with Kochanski had proved that, surely? So why was he suddenly having strange and confusing thoughts concerning his bunkmate? It was the alcohol, it had to be the alcohol. He just hoped Rimmer would forgive him once it wore off. Hopeful he'd forget the whole thing. Nobody would ever have to remind him of it, it could be Lister's dirty little secret.

He knew it was wrong. He knew it, and still he let Rimmer walk over to him. He even stood up to make the whole thing easier. And then, in that small second between considering the act and actually performing it, conflicting thoughts raged through Lister's mind – how much he suddenly craved Rimmer's touch, how it was malicious to lead him on like this when he was sure he'd regret it by tomorrow, maybe even by this afternoon, and then back to how much he smegging wanted him.

And then Rimmer crushed his lips to Lister's, and for a second, everything in the universe was right. All questions were answered. Nothing else mattered – in fact, it all fell away completely – apart from the heat of the two bodies pressed against each other, tongues probing - searching for something that Lister was sure he'd never find in Rimmer – and found it anyway.

And then it was over, and Rimmer was pulling away and he could see in his eyes that he'd felt exactly the same things that Lister had. Slowly, reality righted itself again, and the color returned to Lister's cheeks. Rimmer then turned on a heel, and, without so much as a goodbye, marched from the room, leaving Lister behind, open-mouthed and sure now of a different One Thing.

He was in love with Rimmer.


	5. Chapter Five

Lister tried to sleep off his impending hangover in the sleeping quarters, his drunken brain telling him that he could simply outsmart the alcohol by going straight to bed. He didn't even consider the fact that he'd wake up after the longest sleep he'd had in ages with a raging headache and the burning urge to throw up. Thankfully, he made it to the shower before emptying the remains of his stomach onto the floor, and after a few minutes of running water all the evidence had disappeared down the drain.

As the events of the day came slowly flooding back to him, Lister found that his seat on the floor was much more appealing than the thought of going outside to face the others. He checked his watch – it was almost seven p.m. Surely he could just hide away in the sleeping quarters for a few hours until he was tired enough to sleep again. It was unlikely anyone would come looking for him – he'd made his excuses to Kryten about lunch and dinner before heading off to bed in the first place.

Still, he couldn't get the image of Rimmer disappearing down the corridor out of his head. The way he'd just turned and left. Lister hadn't even called after him, or begged him to stay, or- Oh, God. They'd kissed. He'd kissed Rimmer!

And, as much he would rather deny it (or pretend it hadn't happened at all), Lister hadn't wanted to push him away or wash his mouth out or run away.

He'd actually enjoyed it.

Wiping the thought from his mind, Lister forced himself to get to his feet and made his way to the door, each step reminding him of how much he'd rather just crawl back into bed. Hopefully Rimmer had gone to one of the other bunkrooms and he wouldn't encounter him while he searched for the others. How difficult could it be to avoid someone on a ship this big?

The answer proved to be 'incredibly, incredibly difficult', since as Lister rounded the corner, he found Rimmer slumped against the wall. Lister nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the other man just sitting there. He tried to back up and go back the way he'd come, but Rimmer had already noticed him and was watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Er, hey," Lister said awkwardly, fiddling with his sleeve to avoid making eye contact. Rimmer snorted.

"Finally got rid of the hangover, then? I'm surprised you can see straight."

"Yeah, well."

"Remember much?" Rimmer asked, trying for spiteful but still with a glimmer of hope in his voice. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he didn't remember anything, the day had just become a hazy blur.

Lister couldn't answer, he just nodded. Rimmer scrambled into a standing position and glowered at the other man.

"I don't want to hear an apology, Lister. I don't want to hear your pathetic, miserable excuses, because what you did wasn't fair. D'you hear me? It wasn't fair to- to-" Rimmer wasn't even surprised to find that he couldn't finish his sentence. He trailed off, hurt and embarrassed, and waited for Lister to say something.

It turned out that he could be waiting a long time. Lister just looked at the floor and scuffed his bare foot against the linoleum.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, Lister raised his head and muttered, "I know."

"Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself? What d'you think you were playing at, Lister? You saw how I was last night!"

"I-I was drunk, man. I'm sorry."

"Ah, yes, the old 'lowered inhibitions' excuse. Come on, Listy, even you can do better than that! I was expecting that one!"

"I'm not sayin' that's the only reason! I was just- I don't know what I was doin', Rimmer, I'm sorry."

Just as Rimmer had decided that he really didn't want to hear this anymore, Holly's face popped onto the screen behind them, looking casually panicked, as if such an oxymoron were even possible. The pair spun to face the screen, alarmed by the interruption and by Holly's presence. She looked at them both for a second before saying, "There's an emergency."

Lister sighed. If this was an emergency like the last one had been an 'emergency', and they'd run out of mint imperials or something equally as unimportant, he swore he was going to smash the screen in with his bare hands, "What is it, Hol?"

"There's a ship shooting at us," Holly said nonchalantly, "Big one."

A groan escaped Lister's lips as he made to move down the corridor to the drive room. Holly called after him, "I think you should take Starbug. Take 'em by surprise."

"You said it was a big ship! If it targets Starbug we won't have a chance!"

"Nah, it'd take too long to maneuver around to shoot at Starbug. Plus, I reckon you have about, oh, um… ten minutes before one of the shots hits Red Dwarf and kills you all anyway."

"So, basically, we're screwed either way?"

"I didn't say that, did I? You could probably make it in time. If you take the attention off Red Dwarf in Starbug I can probably load a missile in about half an hour and blow the whole thing out of this solar system."

"We really need to get Red Dwarf updated. It takes half an hour to load and shoot a missile?! We'd be dead in a minute if that thing really wanted to get us!"

"Well, Dave, I didn't say it took half an hour to load and shoot a missile. Actually, it probably takes about forty-five minutes to do all that-" Holly was saying, but Lister had already taken off down the corridor and was currently sprinting towards the Drive room to find Kryten and the Cat. Rimmer followed at a slower pace, aware that they were running out of time to reach Starbug but too paranoid about having to make the journey alongside Lister to care.

It took a full six minutes to get everybody onboard Starbug and for the engines to fire up. That gave them approximately four minutes to draw the ship's attention away from Red Dwarf, which, in Lister's mind, wasn't going to happen.

Still, while the Cat navigated their way around a small planet to get to the invading ship, Lister put as much fuel as they could spare into the engines and Starbug sped towards the impossibly large ship.

"Oh dear, sirs, if I'm not very much mistaken, that ship is a GELF ship," Kryten announced as they grew closer. Rimmer glanced up from the screen he was watching to frown at the mechanoid.

"Is that worse than we thought?"

"Well, Mr. Rimmer, sir, that depends how you look at it. Not technically, no. Technically, the missiles they happen to be about to shoot at Red Dwarf are still exactly the same missiles we expected them to be. The only, ahem, aspect that is considerably worse is that aboard that ship is Mr. Lister's, ahem, bride."

Lister paled at this statement, turning around in his seat to glare at Kryten. His voice was high and somewhat panicked when he asked, "How d'you know it's the same ship?! There's gotta be a million GELF ships out there! What are the chances that they've managed to find us in the middle of deep space?"

"Ah, I'd say around a billion to one, Mr. Lister, sir."

"Exactly! So it might not be the same one!"

"There's certainly nothing wrong with your logic, sir. The only thing that leads me to think that your bride is on that ship, just a minor detail, it could be totally wrong, it hardly proves anything… is that a GELF with the same physical stature as your bride is standing in the Drive room of the ship clad in a wedding dress identical to the one your wife was wearing on your, ahem, wedding night, bearing a sign which reads as the GELF equivalent to 'come back, Lister, my love'. Aside from that, sir, it could be any old ship, you're completely right. I apologise for causing so much alarm, sir, what a preposterous notion! The same ship, indeed!"

Holly materialized on the screen on Starbug's wall, cleared her throat and said, "You'd better beam onboard, dudes – we have two minutes and counting to disable that missile – there's no way they're going to change course now."

"No way. There is no smeggin' way I am gettin' on that ship. No way," Lister repeated the same two words like a mantra as Holly shook her head sadly.

"Then say goodbye to Red Dwarf, Dave. One minute forty."

"Fine!" Lister exploded, leaping from his chair and scrambling across the cockpit, gesturing for the others to follow, "Let's go! But if I come back re-married or pregnant or anything else involving that creature, I'm holdin' you all personally responsible!"

"Hey, what did I do?" the Cat protested as Lister swung a bazookoid from a nearby rack. Lister didn't take the time to reply – he was already preparing to be beamed aboard the GELF ship. It took a whole twenty seconds for all four of them to arrive safely, giving them around one minute to find and disable the missile.

"Okay, guys, I suggest we split up – we'll cover more ground that way. Kryten, you go with the Cat – Rimmer and I'll go this way," Lister said, gesturing down a long corridor lined with pipes. The mechanoid nodded, and set off with the Cat in the opposite direction, giving Lister a second to wonder why the hell he'd volunteered to go with Rimmer – even without taking the day's events into consideration, the man was an absolute coward – if Lister got himself into any sort of trouble he'd simply cower in a corner and wait for the whole thing to be over.

Moving quickly, the pair jogged down the corridor and came out at a stairwell at the other end. Forty-five seconds. Red Dwarf was a goner. There was no way they'd make it in time. They didn't even know where the missile was kept, never mind how to disable it in such a short amount of time. Lister wasn't giving up, though. No way. They'd come this far. Hopefully Holly's timing had been off – giving them hours before the missile was launched.

"There!" Rimmer cried, pointing a little way down the hallway. Yes! The missile launcher! They skidded through a doorway and threw themselves down a small flight of stairs and there it was, in all its glory, just standing there waiting to be disabled. The whole thing was so easy, Lister was convinced for a second that it had to be a mirage.

Lister was searching frantically for some sort of off button when Rimmer yanked a bunch of wires from underneath and studied them for a second before disconnecting the whole bunch with a wary expression on his face. Lister cringed, waiting for an explosion or a crash or for the whole thing to burst into flames. Fortunately, it did none of these, and during the ten seconds that remained of Holly's estimate, they waited with baited breath for the missile to be released and for Red Dwarf to burst into a million pieces, neither one confident enough in Rimmer's abilities to disable the weapon to completely trust that ripping those wires out of their circuits had been effective.

But Red Dwarf didn't explode. Neither did the missile launcher scream and the missile rocket into space. Nothing happened. And then, slowly, they relaxed. Lister glanced over at Rimmer, who was leaning on the missile launcher, breathless, staring out of the large window they were facing.

"Whoa, man! You did it!" Lister congratulated, grinning hugely. Rimmer took a shaky breath.

"Don't thank me yet, Lister. Knowing my luck it'll probably have set something else off. Probably this ship's self-destruct system."

"Stop puttin' yourself down, Rimmer! You stopped the missile – look! No explosions. Not even a dent in Red Dwarf!"

"Yes, but-"

Rimmer didn't even have time to finish this protest, because something stepped out of the shadows. Something incredibly large and hairy, that blocked out most of the light coming in from outside in the corridor. Something incredibly large and hairy and wearing a wedding dress.

For a minute, they just stared at the GELF standing in front of them. The GELF stared back. Lister backed away slowly, until his back was pressed against the wall of the missile room. The GELF didn't move.

"Er, hey. Long time no see, eh?" Lister babbled, "How're you doin'? Lookin' good, I see – is that a new haircut?! It suits you! Really nice!"

The GELF grunted, then took a step forward. It reached out to stroke Lister's head and then turned to glare at Rimmer, still caressing Lister's hair protectively. It made a shooing motion at Rimmer, who took a small step back. The GELF tugged at Lister's arm so that he was forced to move even further from the only exit in sight, and the bazookoid he'd been holding slipped from his frightened grasp. It lay harmlessly on the ground by Lister's feet.

"Well, I'll just leave you two alone, shall I? Best be getting back. Things to be done and all that. Have a nice honeymoon!" Rimmer beamed, waving before he stepped outside.

"Rimmer! You can't just leave me here, man! Please! Rimmer!" Lister screamed, trying to struggle away from the GELF, who held him firmly in place with seemingly no effort whatsoever, "I'm gonna kill you, Rimmer!"

"You'll have to catch me first, Listy!"

"Rimmer! Please! Come back! I need you, Rimmer!" Lister tried to shove the GELF away. Too heavy. He just hurt both his shoulders in the process. Surely someone would find him soon. Surely Kryten or the Cat would hear him screaming and come running to the rescue-

"What was that, Listy?" Rimmer popped his head around the doorway, smiling smugly. Lister breathed a small sigh of relief at seeing him there, and muttered, "I need you, man."

"That's what I wanted to hear!" Rimmer grinned, striding into the room until he was facing the GELF, "Listen. I don't know if you can understand me, but this man-" he jabbed a finger in Lister's direction, "-is not your husband. He doesn't love you-" Rimmer waved a finger in the air to illustrate his point, "-and he will never love you. I appreciate that might be a little hard to get your head around, or to accept-" God knows, he was finding it hard enough, especially after that smegging kiss, "-but you can't keep him here. He doesn't belong to you."

Another grunt, this time accompanied by a snarl. The GELF was gripping Lister's hair now – a defiant expression lighting its features. Rimmer sighed.

"Look, I know you think you're in love and everything, but it'll pass. You'll find a great husband one day – and maybe you could choose one of the same species next time? Just let him go. You're going to have to give up sooner or later. You don't want to be waiting around forever, do you?" Rimmer was alarmed at how his words rang true to himself as he watched the confused GELF slowly release Lister from its grasp. Rimmer felt his courage ebbing away as the GELF stared him down, and then, in one fluid motion, picked both men up by their collars and dragged them to a door set in the left-hand wall.

A thousand possibilities flew through Rimmer's mind – the GELF could be throwing them out of an airlock, or into some long-abandoned elevator shaft where they'd fall to their deaths, or-

The GELF kicked the door open so that it banged heavily against the inside wall of… a supply closet. It deposited both men inside, slammed the door behind them, and locked it swiftly.

"Oh, this is just smegging brilliant," Rimmer said. Trapped in a tiny, dark room with the person he'd least like to be trapped in a tiny, dark room with.

This was going to be a long day.


	6. Chapter Six

"Well, Listy, looks like you've been dumped," Rimmer commented after picking himself up off the floor and pulling himself into a sitting position with his back against the wall. Lister didn't say anything, just scooted over to allow himself a little more room.

"I can't say I blame her - after the way you treated her, leaving on your wedding night and everything."

Lister took a deep breath, which didn't help much – the air in the supply closet was stuffy and the whole room had a musty smell coating it. Rimmer glanced at him, confused as to why he hadn't delivered a biting reply or a snarky comment yet, and was even more surprised to find Lister simply staring up at the ceiling.

"Lister?" Rimmer echoed, but his voice sounded strangely far away, considering they were practically pressed against each other, "Are you all right, Lister?"

Lister somehow managed to nod. Someone would be along to help soon. They wouldn't be alone for long. More importantly, they wouldn't be trapped in here for long. They'd be rescued – they had to be.

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you before, all right? You're right, you were drunk. It wasn't your fault, it was mine, I was stupid enough to go through with it. How about we just forget it ever happened, yeah?" Rimmer was going on and on, not even pausing for breath. Lister wanted to tell him to shut up, to just shut the smeg up, but he couldn't, because his voice seemed to have taken a holiday. Instead, he felt Rimmer moving closer to him in the darkness, until they were almost touching. Lister's heart went into overdrive, his pulse quickening, the blood pumping around his body at speeds he wouldn't have previously thought possible. He tried to move away, but there was nowhere to move to, he was trapped in this stupid room on this stupid ship with stupid Rimmer, who wouldn't stop talking.

"Listy? Are you sure you're okay?" Rimmer pressed, edging closer still. With a primal roar, Lister shoved him away as hard as he could, scrambled to his feet and began twisting the locked door handle desperately, and, when that failed, banging on the wood with his fists. Nothing happened. The door didn't even creak.

"I've got to get out of here!" Lister groaned, shoving his full body weight into the door. Still nothing. He tried ramming into it with his shoulder. Not even an inch.

"Oh, smeg, you're claustrophobic, aren't you?" Rimmer finally caught on, leaping to his feet and helping with the door. Even with the two of them pushing, it didn't even come close to giving way.

"What kind of smeggin' door is this, anyway? Some sort of magical reinforced wood?!" Lister moaned, sinking to the floor and putting his head in his hands. They were stuck. They were never going to get off this smegging ship. He'd starve to death in this room and then Rimmer would be left trying to avoid sitting on his skeleton.

"Look, it'll be okay. Kryten and the Cat will find us soon – we just have to hang on. They'll find us," Rimmer was saying, speaking quietly as if this would help Lister to calm down. It didn't. However, it did make him feel slightly better that Rimmer was actually trying to make him feel better instead of teasing him. That didn't make up for the fact that they were stuck in this supply closet in the middle of a GELF ship with one hell of a hangover, though. It didn't even come close.

"If… if we don't make it, I just wanted to say… sorry. 'Bout before. I didn't… mean to… y'know. Upset ya. I just… wasn't thinkin'," Lister panted, feeling like he was on the verge of passing out. Rimmer smiled grimly.

"I know you didn't mean it," he said sadly, and waited while Lister weighed the meaning of the words before continuing, "It's fine. It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does, man. Course it matters," Lister sighed, a tidal wave of fresh guilt pouring over him as he noted the way Rimmer actually spoke about himself as if he really didn't matter, "It wasn't just… me not thinkin', you know," Lister admitted, feeling foolish but forcing the words out all the same. He was remembering the feeling of Rimmer's lips against his own, the rush he had felt when he leaned in to kiss him.

Rimmer frowned. If Lister was saying what he thought he was saying, then… No. He couldn't afford to think like that. Of course that wasn't what he was saying. He was saying that… That it wasn't just his lack of consideration for Rimmer, it was the alcohol and the shock of the previous night and a million other factors that meant they couldn't be together. Still, he had to be sure. His voice broke when he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean… I mean- Well… That… I feel…"

"Spit it out, Lister!" Rimmer cried, a surge of anger building up inside. How could Lister sit here and mess him around like this? How could he stand what he was doing to Rimmer? How could he possibly expect things to go back to normal after this?

"I love you! Okay?! I smeggin' love you," Lister exploded, hiding his head in his hands once again. Rimmer tensed, and then realized there was no longer any real reason to be tense, but found he couldn't relax. The urge to put his arm around Lister was overpowering. But he had to be lying, he just had to be. Caving under pressure, or something similar. It didn't mean the presence of Rimmer's arm around his shoulders would be any more comforting in this enclosed space than it would be any other time.

"I s'pose I should've said that sooner, eh?" Lister muttered, his voice barely audible. Rimmer let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the wall, the cold stone against his cheek oddly comforting.

"Yeah," Rimmer agreed, still trembling, "I… I don't know what to say."

"Well sayin' it back might be a start!" Lister snarled, but there was no real malice behind the sound. Rimmer half-laughed, relief flooding him.

"I… Well, I-I love you too."

"S'good to know," Lister replied. He really was on the verge of fainting now – his entire body was caked in sweat, and he felt strangely drowsy – blackness surged up to meet him, welcoming him. He wanted so badly to succumb to it, but he couldn't, not yet, not while Rimmer was just sitting across from him with an 'I-can't-believe-this-is-happening' expression on his face. Lister wanted to change it to a 'this-is-actually-happening' look, which wouldn't be possible if he passed out cold on the floor.

"C'mere," he mumbled, patting the floor beside him. Rimmer looked dubiously at the ground.

"Are you sure? I can stay over here… if it helps?"

"S'fine," Lister slurred, "I can't do this if you're over there." He smiled, beckoning Rimmer closer, and watched as the hologram shifted over to him. After a few seconds of switching positions and trying to find the right angle, Lister pressed his lips to Rimmer's for the second time that day, winding an arm around the other man's neck to pull him closer still. Suddenly, it didn't matter that the room was so tiny and so dark. It didn't matter that they were trapped on a GELF ship with no means of rescue.

It only mattered that they had each other, and as long as Rimmer's lips were against his, the darkness threatening to envelope him was utterly inconsequential.

It was at that precise moment, however, that the door decided it would be best to swing open, and for Kryten to peer into the supply closet and for him to see Mr. Lister and Mr. Rimmer trying, it seemed, to eat each other.

It took a whole four seconds for them to realize that there was light streaming into the room and that a mechanoid was stood in the doorway with his gaze trained on them. Rimmer noticed first, and tried to pull away, but Lister made a strange sound deep in his throat and, with his arm still locked around Rimmer's neck, pulled him tighter towards him.

"Ahem. Mr. Lister, sir? If you would kindly pause in your attempt to swallow Mr. Rimmer whole for a moment, we've come to your rescue," Kryten said after loudly clearing his throat. Lister froze, still pinned against Rimmer, and gradually drew back, a blush rising to his cheeks. He turned, horror-movie slowly, to face the mechanoid, who was hanging his head and trying to forget what he had just witnessed.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, sirs, but you've landed back on Red Dwarf," Kryten informed them, straightening up from his crouch. Lister frowned, and stood up just in time to see the Cat staring at the two of them with hilariously wide eyes.

"What d'you mean, landed back on Red Dwarf? Did you beam us back on board?"

Because, little did Lister and Rimmer know, the supply closet hadn't actually been a supply closet. It had been an escape pod disguised as a supply closet. Which, if you really chose to think about it, was a major design flaw. Because, although if used properly, the owner could store emergency rations and other equipment that would be helpful if the need to evacuate ever arose, the GELFs, an incredibly stupid species, only succeeded in placing rather useless stacks of old, trashy paperbacks, a few dirty magazines, some out-of-date packet food, and stacks and stacks of money inside the escape pod. They had, in fact, only realized that it wasn't a supply closet when Lister's GELF bride had dumped the two men inside in her fit of rage after being told that her husband, whose return she had been awaiting for months since he left, didn't love her. All her suspicions had been confirmed. Her father had been correct when he had suggested taking emergency precautions. At first she had agreed with his plan – if it meant she would get her loving husband back after all this time, then it was worth it. But now she had decided, after watching the hologram's erratic hand gestures and listening to his strange human-speak, that her husband really wasn't worth it. That there was someone better for her out there, and that she just had to find him.

And, because this was an incredible amount of brain power to be used by a GELF at any given time, after releasing the escape pod into space with a lever next to the door that she had assumed was a light switch, she had proceeded to keel over on the floor and suffered a brain hemorrhage that had eventually killed her.

Needless to say, she didn't end up meeting her perfect partner.

"And so we engaged in a delightful conversation with her father – a lovely man – who told us to kindly beam ourselves back to Red Dwarf-"

"Well, that's not what it sounded like, buddy!" the Cat exclaimed, shaking his head, "I think what he was actually saying was-"

"The GELF language is spoken in harsh tones, Mr. Cat, sir. I can assure you that he was asking us in the politest of terms-"

"Whatever! Just get on with it!" Lister shouted, still embarrassed at being found making out with Rimmer on the floor of a supply closet. He had half expected Rimmer to accuse Lister of jumping him when they were trapped in there together, seemingly unable to suppress his urges, but he had just looked at the floor and accepted Lister's hand up.

"Well, long story short, sir, the GELFs seemed to have a, um, a theory that the reason you abandoned your bride was that you, ahem… had found someone else. And that the someone else was, ahem, Mr. Rimmer."

Lister and Rimmer exchanged a withering look and protested at the same time, tripping over their words in an attempt to get them out as soon as possible.

"That's ridiculous!"

"As if-"

"That's-"

"Just ridiculous!"

"If I may interrupt, sirs, whether or not you are, ahem, romantically involved with each other is beside the point," Kryten said, unable to meet their gaze as he delivered the bad news. It was hard enough resisting the urge to throw himself at their feet and beg for mercy – how could he bring himself to ruin a moment as wonderful as this? When they had both finally admitted their feelings toward one another?

"Then what is the point, Kryten?" Rimmer asked. Kryten had the decency to look shifty when he replied.

"Well, sir… In an attempt to, ahem, eliminate you as a sexual threat… The GELFs decided to infect you with a holovirus."

"What?! When?" Rimmer exploded, incredulous. Kryten looked ashamedly at the floor.

"It would appear that it happened several months ago, as we were leaving their planet."

"Why didn't the scanners pick anything up?! Surely they would have known if something was wrong-"

"The virus is almost undetectable, Mr. Rimmer, sir. I'm so sorry!" Kryten squeaked, "I just wish I could have done something sooner, sir, I am so very sorry!"

"W-what does this virus entail, exactly? What's going to happen to me?"

"Well… In most cases the victim will experience night-terrors, which are often dreamed up by the subconscious and formed by the victim's worst memories or worst fears. And in some cases, the victim may feel… differently towards others. Experience different, ahem, emotions."

"You mean like… Like-"

"Like your attachment to Mr. Lister, sir, yes. I'm so sorry, Mr. Rimmer, sir, if I had only known sooner I might have been able to…"

"To what, Kryten? You might have been able to what?" Rimmer choked.

"To save you, sir."

Silence, and then, in a tiny voice, "Victims who experience these changed emotions tend to- To-to-" Kryten couldn't finish. He simply sank into a great, sobbing mess on the floor and covered his face with his hands.

"I'm going to die, aren't I? That's what you were going to say, isn't it? I'm going to die. Again," Rimmer echoed.


	7. Chapter Seven

No-one spoke for the longest of pauses. In fact, it felt like time had just slowed down especially for the four of them – even when it jolted back into place and they began to register what was happening and to move slowly down the corridor, time moved almost sluggishly.

The four of them traipsed to the lift situated at the far end of the hallway, and waited an agonizing six seconds for the doors to whoosh open before stepping inside. A thicker blanket of silence descended as the lift began to climb steadily upwards, ascending higher and higher before finally coming to an abrupt halt. The doors slid open, quietly this time, for them to get out. And then time finally managed to right itself as Lister turned to Kryten with a desperate look on his face.

"Is there nothin' we can do?" he asked, refusing to believe that this was it. It couldn't possibly be it. After all they had been through together, the end couldn't arrive as soon or as easily as it seemed to be doing. Things had been this dire before – and it had always worked out. It had to work out.

Kryten was still staring at the ground when he replied. He hadn't actually looked up since admitting just how bad the situation was. It was a wonder he'd made it upstairs without walking into anything, really.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Lister, sir. Th-there is no known cure for this particular strain of virus."

"No known cure, maybe. But can't we cook something up? Surely there's something we can do, something to-" Lister cut off, unable to finish. He sank slowly into a chair and looked up at the mechanoid with pleading eyes.

"I shall try my very best, sir, but without the right supplies or resources… I'm not sure how effective it will be. I'll head off to the medibay right now to make a start." And without so much as a goodbye, Kryten dashed off down the corridor, mopping at his eyes with one hand.

"So, you and Goal-Post Head, huh?" the Cat said, sounding mildly amused. Rimmer shot him a look from across the room, which he ignored. He leaned in closer to Lister to whisper, "What d'you see in him, bud? The guy's a freak!"

Just as Rimmer started to say 'don't pretend I can't hear you', Lister cut across him, "Yeah, well - he's my freak."

The Cat actually shuddered with revulsion as Rimmer glanced hopefully across at Lister. He'd never stuck up for him in any sort of argument before. It ignited a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Don't worry, you won't have to put up with me for much longer," Rimmer snapped, and stormed out of the room, leaving Lister and the Cat sitting in a rather stunned silence. Lister stood up and made to go after him, turning to say 'See what you've done? He's dyin', man! Don't you have a scrap of sympathy?' to the Cat, who wrinkled his nose and tried to look inconspicuous as he took out a hand mirror to inspect his hair.

With that, Lister sprinted from the room and went to find his bunkmate.

XXX

He found Rimmer back in the sleeping quarters, staring out of the window at the infinity that stretched ahead of them – an endless amount of stars and solar systems and entire galaxies, all of which he wouldn't be around to gaze at anymore very soon. Lister strode over to him and put a reassuring hand on the other man's shoulder, gently guiding him back from the window.

"He didn't mean it, man, he's just…" The excuse withered and died on Lister's lips. Rimmer smiled grimly and muttered, "He's just the Cat."

"Yeah." A brief pause, which seemed to be filled with all the things they couldn't bring themselves to say, "We'll find somethin', Rimmer, I promise. We always do."

"I don't think we will, Listy," Rimmer sighed, "I have, what, a few days, at the most? There's no way Kryten will be able to just invent some kind of miracle cure by then. No way," he echoed. At least the first time he hadn't known he was going to die. He hadn't had to prepare for it. It had just happened.

This time, though, it felt as if the ground was swirling up to meet him, the way you felt after getting blissfully drunk and passing out on the pavement. This was really the end. In a couple of days, there would be no Arnold J. Rimmer. He would just be… gone. And this time there would be no bringing him back as a hologram. This time he would just be well and truly dead.

"We will, Rimmer. Don't give up hopin'. We'll find somethin'," Lister vowed, pulling him closer and breathing him in.

"And if we don't?" Rimmer asked in a small voice. Lister could barely bring himself to reply, but he had to. He forced his lips to form words, if only for Rimmer's sake.

"Then… we'll just have to make every second count."

That was all it took for Rimmer to come completely undone, standing there in the arms of the man he loved, the man he had loved for more than three million years. Lister could do nothing but hold him while he wept, feeling useless as he tugged Rimmer gently towards the bunk so they could sit down. It started off as silent tears and turned to huge, gulping sobs, and no matter how many times Lister rubbed Rimmer's back in smooth, reassuring circles or told him that it was going to be all right, the crying didn't stop.

Eventually, Rimmer calmed down enough to speak coherently again. He eased up from where he had ended up practically lying in Lister's lap, smoothed down his clothes and cleared his throat, embarrassment overwhelming the fear that had previously been choking him.

"How do we even know that this is real? Kryten said that this-" He gestured to Lister and then to himself, "-was brought on by the virus. I don't even know if what I'm feeling is real anymore, Lister, do you even know how awful that feels? To not know what you're really thinking and experiencing?!"

"Of course it's real, man. How can it not be? Does it even matter, really? If you feel it right now… surely that's what counts? Surely we should… make the most of it…" Lister trailed off, causing Rimmer to look instantly guilty and avert his gaze to his knees.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. I just… I-" Lister didn't even let him finish, he was already winding his arms around Rimmer's shoulders to pull him tighter towards him, cutting off the flow of apologies that were spurting from Rimmer's lips with a kiss. It wasn't long before they were lying on Rimmer's bunk, just kissing, everything else temporarily forgotten.

Hesitantly, Lister propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at his partner, who was staring up at him with an equally tentative expression. They both knew what they wanted… it was just a matter of being brave enough to admit it to each other.

"D'you… d'you want to… maybe…?"

"Of course I do, Listy," Rimmer understood without Lister even having to elaborate. This was what he had always wanted, ever since he had first met the man. It was just odd hearing Lister say that he wanted it, too. They were living in the moment as they slowly began to undress each other. There was really no other way to live, thinking about it. The moment was all that remained. Rimmer finally let go – let go of his inhibitions and awkwardness and the feeling that all of this was distinctly wrong – and just went with what felt right to him. What did it matter about what anyone else thought? As long as he was with Lister, nothing else mattered.

XXX

Elated, Kryten made his way from the medibay to the sleeping quarters, nearly dancing with joy, a clear spring in his step as he practically danced down the corridor. The Cat glanced up from a magazine he had been flicking through to frown at the mechanoid – what had gotten into the monkeys lately? Everyone seemed to be acting weird. He shrugged it off and went back to pondering which jacket would be better suited to him – the gold one with the sequins or the purple one with the flower?

Kryten couldn't believe his luck. After five long hours of searching and experimenting and adjusting, he had done it. He had found a cure! Sure, it was a little complicated and more than a bit temperamental, but it should work. It would at least mean that Mr. Rimmer had a fighting chance. Maybe things would work out after all.

He rapped on the door twice before commanding it to slide open, and stepped inside, grinning hugely. The grin faltered when he registered the scene in front of him – Mr. Lister and Mr. Rimmer were tangled together on the bottom bunk, completely naked, their clothes strewn around the room in a pattern that might have been considered artistic back in the twenty-first century. Kryten deliberately avoided stepping on one of Mr. Lister's socks and crept carefully around a pair of jeans before he realized that Mr. Lister was awake. Awake and panicked.

Kryten's initial thought was that Mr. Lister had obviously been hurt in some way. He forgot how awkward the situation was and bounded across to the bed, preparing for something – anything – other than what he got.

"Kryten – it's Rimmer. Somethin's happened. We were- We were- Y'know, and then we were just lyin' there and then he just- he just passed out. I think somethin's wrong, Kryten, help him!" Lister cried, making a grab for his clothes and dragging them on. He had tucked the sheet around Rimmer to keep him warm and to preserve his dignity, but he wasn't waking up. His projection had become blurred slightly around the edges.

"Oh, Mr. Lister, sir, you should have warned me before you two decided to just- go at it!" Kryten yelled desperately, kneeling by the bed to take a closer look at Mr. Rimmer, who hadn't responded to the conversation whatsoever, "You appear to have-" a gulp, "-sped up the process by, ahem, getting closer to Mr. Rimmer. We'd better get him to the medibay right away, sir. Could you possibly help me lift him?"

Lister and Kryten hauled the unconscious Rimmer off the bunk, winding the sheet tightly around his naked body before they began to carry him through to the medibay.

"Did you manage to find anythin', Kryten?" Lister panted as they deposited him on one of the tables. Kryten nodded, looking quite proud of himself.

"Yes, Mr. Lister, sir, I believe I have found a cure. I would have liked a little more time to, ahem, perfect it, but I'm afraid time is of the essence. I'll simply take Mr. Rimmer's light-bee and store the data on a separate file, and then run this program-" Kryten extracted a small disk from a drawer, inspected it, and slotted it into a piece of machinery, "-to remove all traces of the virus, followed by this program to prevent it ever returning, and then this program, which is essentially a malware-blocker, and then-"

"Okay, Kryten, I get it. Just get on with it!" Lister demanded, no longer caring which program served which purpose. He settled into a chair and scooted over to be closer to Rimmer while Kryten set up various machines and altered the settings on each one.

"Firstly, Mr. Lister… I must warn you of the risks of the procedure. It, of course, is possible that the process might not work at all. However, I've tested it on various other pieces of software, and everything seems to be in working order."

Lister tried not to let on how much it killed him to hear the man he loved referred to as a 'piece of software', and held Rimmer's hand a little tighter.

"Any risk's a risk worth takin', right, Kryters?"

"Indeed, sir," Kryten agreed wholeheartedly, "The only other risk I am aware of is that… after the procedure is complete… it is possible, not certain, that Mr. Rimmer's emotions might not be… inclined towards you. It is possible that the, ahem, attraction between the two of you might in fact have been brought on by the holovirus. If that is the case, Mr. Rimmer's life will have been saved, but… he may not feel the same way as he did a few minutes ago."

Lister nodded, bowing his head slightly. He couldn't bear to think of what would happen if Rimmer awoke and was repulsed by the experience they had just shared. But, more than that, he couldn't bear to think of a life without Rimmer. Whether he still loved him or not, he refused to let him die without trying absolutely everything.

"Okay, Kryten, go for it," Lister whispered, staring at the man lying in front of him, who was unaware of the distress Lister himself was feeling, the desperation and hatred for the stupid GELFs who had done this to him. If they hadn't landed on that stupid planet, everything would be fine. This wouldn't be happening at all.

"I'm going to have to turn Mr. Rimmer's projection off now, sir, in order for the program to run properly," Kryten informed him, looking regretfully at the couple. It would be so darn sad if Mr. Rimmer woke up without the same emotions they had now. And it would probably be Kryten's fault, because if something went wrong with the machinery, he could be held personally responsible. He tried to erase that thought from his mind as he watched Lister lean over to plant a kiss on Rimmer's forehead before nodding at Kryten.

"Do it."


	8. Chapter Eight

The entire process took two long hours, although to Lister it seemed to take an age. He sat rigidly on his chair with his nails creating grooves in the leather from digging them into the material too hard, watching Kryten work. Lister wasn't really keeping track of what was happening – he barely processed the disks and the machinery and the programs, although Kryten was doing his best to involve him by giving detailed descriptions of each step. Lister wasn't listening. Kryten's words simply flowed through him, as nonsensical as a foreign language.

"Almost done, sir – just a few finishing touches…" Kryten announced, and Lister perked up a bit, sitting up from where he had been slumped with his head on a nearby desk. He actually managed to retain a clear head while Kryten disconnected various monitors and finally prepared to switch Rimmer's projection back on.

"I'm going to switch Mr. Rimmer to soft-light, sir, until we're certain the procedure has been successful. I'm sure Mr. Rimmer would be devastated if something were to happen to his hard light-bee," Kryten told Lister, who just nodded frantically, desperate for the tension to be lifted from the room as soon as possible. He needed to know that Rimmer was okay.

The silence that fell on the pair as Kryten positioned Rimmer's light-bee on the table and flicked a switch on one of the machines was deafening. Lister edged carefully closer to the table as Rimmer gradually materialized in front of them, reaching out tentatively to place his hand on the edge of Rimmer's, careful not to go through his projection.

"Rimmer? You okay, man?" Lister asked, and even to him, his voice sounded far away. Rimmer blinked a few times and sat up slowly.

"Lister? W-what happened?" Rimmer echoed, his brow settling into a frown.

"It's okay, man, it's over. D'you- d'you remember anythin'?"

"I-I'm not sure," Rimmer paused, and turned his gaze slowly to where Lister's hand would have been touching his had he been solid, "Lister? Why are you… holding my hand?"

Lister snatched his hand away as if it had been burned. Rimmer's frown deepened as he appeared to remember the events of the last few days, and he shook his head, disbelieving.

"Did- did all of that really happen?" he echoed, "Did we really…?" He left the question hanging in the air between them, and Lister nodded.

"Oh, God, please tell me this is some awful nightmare that I'm going to wake up from," Rimmer said. Lister was starting to feel faint. His worst fears were coming to life. He had lost Rimmer. Worse – he had disgusted Rimmer.

"I-I'm sorry, man," Lister apologized, although he wasn't sure that he should even be the one doing it. He felt hollow and empty inside, as if his organs had been spooned out and left behind somewhere.

There was a long pause, during which neither one knew what to say to the other. Kryten decided to fill the silence by turning the conversation to more practical matters.

"Sirs, if I may interject," he began, as if he was actually interrupting a riveting conversation, "I suggest performing a full scan to ensure that all of the virus has been eradicated."

Grateful of the distraction, Lister and Rimmer nodded in unison. There was a shorter and slightly less tension-filled silence as a buzzing sound filled the air and a strobe of green light shot down from an overhead machine, falling over Rimmer and illuminating the whole room an eerie shade of emerald.

"Everything appears to be fine, sirs," Kryten said, as cheerily as he could muster, "Technically speaking, the virus had progressed to a stage that would have been considered incurable – once Mr. Rimmer's emotions were altered, his fate would have supposedly been decided. It appears we've struck lucky, sirs! Isn't this brilliant?" Kryten was stalling for time now, it was blatantly obvious. Rimmer had already turned to Lister, looking guilty and still faintly freaked out.

"Lister, I…" Rimmer trailed off. Lister just shook his head, backing away from the table.

"It's fine. Really. It's fine. I-I'm glad you're okay, man," Lister said, all emotion absent from his tone. Kryten looked on helplessly as Lister turned and fled, casting one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

XXX

Lister had been lying on his bunk for the past eighteen hours. He hadn't gotten up except to use the bathroom, and he hadn't spoken to anyone. Three times, Kryten had come in, attempting to lure Lister out with a range of tempting meals, all of which he refused. In the end, plates had collected on the end of his bunk, the food now cold and still untouched. Rimmer had been in once, attempted another failed apology and collected fresh clothes before disappearing again.

Even the Cat had tried, but had grown exasperated of Lister's lack of reply and slunk off after a whole minute of talking to himself about why Lister should get out of bed and forget about Goal-Post Head.

Lister was finding the ceiling incredibly interesting. There was a patch of damp coming through in the left-hand corner – that managed to entertain him for a whole sixteen minutes, before he turned his attention to an ancient piece of chewing gum he had once stuck in the crack between the wall and the ceiling.

A million questions soared through Lister's mind – did Rimmer really hate him for what they had done? How much did he remember, exactly? Was Rimmer even gay? Had any of what they had done been real? None of it?

There were ridiculous tears brimming in Lister's eyes, and he wiped them away angrily with the back of his hand. How could he have let this happen? If he had just waited, if he hadn't stupidly admitted his feelings towards Rimmer in that escape pod, this could have all be avoided. He wouldn't feel like he was on the brink of insanity, walking a tightrope between being completely sane and in crazy territory. The conflicting emotions flooding his mind were almost too much. He hated himself for falling for Rimmer – a smeghead at the best of times – so easily. He hated himself for hating Rimmer. It wasn't even as if it had been his fault – he couldn't help it if the virus had affected him.

But, most of all, Lister was tired. Tired of worrying and being stressed and, the main cause of his distress – tired of being tired.

So, going for the obvious solution – Lister went to sleep.

XXX

For the next week and a half, Lister and Rimmer avoided each other. It became a game – if they could keep away from each other for more than a day, they secretly celebrated a victory. If they could avoid bringing one another up in conversation around the table or in the cockpit, it meant they could have an extra drink with dinner. Rimmer moved out of their sleeping quarters and moved his things to another bunkroom a whole deck below. Lister didn't even protest as he carried box after box out of the room. They didn't speak as he directed the scutters around the room to gather the things that wouldn't fit into the cardboard boxes.

The Cat, quite frankly, thought the whole thing was absolutely absurd. As much as he couldn't stand being in the same room as Rimmer, he found himself mildly amused by the constant bickering of the pair whenever they were forced to spend time with each other in the cockpit. Whenever Rimmer barked an instruction, Lister would mimic him and refuse to follow the order, meaning Rimmer would heave himself out of his seat to follow his own instruction, often making sure to bump Lister's chair heavily in the process, once almost resulting in their losing control of Starbug whilst inspecting a nearby derelict.

It looked like it was never going to end. They would float aimlessly through space for years and the conflict would never be resolved. They would argue and make digs at each other for the rest of their lives. Maybe they'd even come to blows one day.

Nobody was absolutely sure how much longer they could stand it. Even Holly was spending most of her time offline – just to avoid watching the two bickering.

And then, one day, it all came to a halt.

It had begun as an ordinary day. Lister had slept in late, a habit he had fallen into a few days before, and then he'd showered slowly until it was almost lunchtime – an acceptable time, therefore, to meet up with the others.

Just as Lister was pulling on a clean pair of trousers, the door slid open and Rimmer walked in, dressed in full uniform, stopping just a few feet short of the bunk where Lister had been tying his shoelaces. He glanced up, and, upon seeing Rimmer in front of him, looked immediately back down again, figuring that he had just come to collect something he had forgotten.

Another minute passed, in which Rimmer didn't move. Lister sighed heavily and stood up.

"What?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Am I sittin' on somethin' of yours? D'you want to take the floor, too?"

"N-no," Rimmer said, clearly working up to something but not quite sure how to phrase it. He looked down at his hands for a second before meeting Lister's gaze again.

"I just wanted… to talk to you."

"Talk to me?!" Lister exploded, "You haven't spoken to me for the past week and now you want me to talk to you?"

"I just… I wanted to say sorry. About everything. It hasn't been easy for me, either."

Lister snorted, "Yeah, you must've had a pretty awful time of it. I can totally tell how upset you are. The only thing you had to get over, Rimmer, was the fact that we had sex!"

Rimmer's cheeks reddened at the word, but his embarrassment only fueled Lister's anger, "It wasn't as if you were against the whole thing! I thought you wanted it! You told me you wanted it!"

"I know," Rimmer said quietly. Lister just turned away from him.

"I thought- I just thought- You said you loved me, Rimmer," he whispered, his voice almost breaking. Rimmer looked at his feet.

"I'm sorry, Lister. Truly. I'm so sorry."

Lister heard the door slide open and closed, and Rimmer's footsteps receded into the corridor. Completely prepared for a fully-fledged shouting match, Lister made a snap decision to follow him, leaving the room just in time to see Rimmer turning into the Drive room at the end of the hall. Lister sprinted after him – it was about time Rimmer got what was coming to him, anyway. Maybe a punch-up would make him feel better, Lister mused, rounding the corner. Rimmer was standing in the middle of the Drive room, speaking to Holly, who was nodding her head sympathetically. Lister froze in the doorway, straining to hear what was being said.

"…I can't take it anymore. Turn me off, Holly. And eject my disk into space. Just- don't tell Lister what I've told you. Please."

"Tell me what?" Lister broke in, and Rimmer whipped around to face him, his cheeks flushing upon seeing him hovering in the doorway.

"Lister… I'm sorry, Listy," Rimmer repeated, and Lister frowned disapprovingly. His confusion deepened as Rimmer launched into a full Rimmer-salute before turning back to Holly's screen.

"Do it, Holly. Turn me off."

Lister just had time to scream 'don't!' before Rimmer's projection flickered and faded, and Lister was left staring at nothing.


	9. Chapter Nine

It took a good few seconds for the shock to register fully, and for Lister to relearn how to speak, and this wasn't even counting the time it took for him to string a coherent sentence together. When he could finally arrange his jumbled thoughts into a question, his voice was weak and thready.

"Holly, what the smeg is goin' on?" It wasn't the most inventive question he could have aired, but it would do for now. Holly had the grace to look slightly guilty even as she said 'nothing', with about as much conviction as a murderer pleading innocent in a court made up of several hundred eyewitnesses.

"Bring Rimmer back, Holly. Switch him back on. Now," Lister attempted to urge authority into his voice, but worry peeked through anyway. Holly cast her eyes downward, looking shifty.

"I can't," she mumbled. Lister's heart stopped for a second – surely she couldn't have erased him this soon? Not with Red Dwarf's ancient computer system.

"What d'you mean, you can't?!" Lister shouted, suddenly enraged. How could this be happening? Just this morning, everything was blissfully normal. He'd rather not have Rimmer speaking to him than have him gone completely. Had it taken him too long to realize? Could he have done more to prevent this? Should he have just accepted Rimmer's apology and had done with it?

"I-I can't, Dave," Holly repeated. Lister ran a hand through his hair and threw himself angrily into a chair.

"Have you- Is he gone?" he asked faintly. Again, Holly couldn't look at him as she replied.

"Mmm."

"You're lyin', Holly," Lister stated, relief flooding his system, "Please. Just turn him back on. I just wanna talk to him."

"I can't."

"Why the smeg not?!" Lister bellowed. Holly seemed to shrink away slightly before realizing that even if Lister smashed her screen in, she wouldn't be able to feel anything, being a computer, and cleared her throat.

"Arnold made me promise. I said I'd delete him from the system."

"So break your promise, Hol! I just- I need to talk to him. What was he on about when he was asking you not to tell me somethin'?"

"I'm not allowed to say," Holly murmured, "I'm sorry, Dave."

"Not that sorry, though," Lister sighed, "Don't you understand, Hol? I love the smeghead."

"Didn't seem that way last week," Holly said curtly, "All I could hear was the sound of you two bickering. Wasn't sure how long I could take it, to be honest."

"So that's what this is? You're tired of us fightin', so you agreed to let Rimmer kill himself?!"

"Well, technically, he's already dead-"

"I don't care about technicalities, Hol! Please-" Lister's voice was barely audible as he begged, "-just turn him back on. We won't fight, I promise."

"You might when you hear the reason he wanted to turn 'imself off in the first place," Holly said, then sighed, "But fine. I'm not having anything to do with it if this all goes pear-shaped, though."

Lister beamed, "Thanks, Hol!"

"Don't thank me yet," Holly grumbled, before disappearing briefly from the screen. Lister was alone for a moment before Rimmer once again appeared in front of him, looking simultaneously confused and frustrated.

"Lister?" he asked, disoriented, "What…?" And then realization became clear on his face as he took in the surroundings and seemed to recall what had just happened, "Holly!" Anger, now, "I'm going to dismantle your circuitry, you great hunk of-"

"Rimmer," Lister breathed, "Tell me what's goin' on." His tone was flat, clinical. Rimmer just stared him down for a second before turning away to stare out of a window at the blackness of the space he thought he'd never see again a mere few days ago.

"Nothing's going on," Rimmer said. Lister got up so abruptly that the chair toppled into one of the consoles behind him and stormed over to Rimmer, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder so that he'd be forced to look him in the eye. Surprise registered on his face, but Lister didn't care. He stared into Rimmer's eyes and spoke through gritted teeth.

"Why is everyone lyin' to me? Just tell me the truth, Rimmer – it's not as if I can't take it. Just tell me."

"Lister…" Rimmer tried to protest, but Lister cut him off before he could finish.

"No, Rimmer! Stop smeggin' sugar coatin' everythin'! You managed to tell Holly – why can't you just spit it out?! Why d'you feel like you have to keep secrets from me, Rimmer? Don't you smeggin' trust me?! I mean, I know we've been through a rough patch lately, but we're gonna be stuck on this ship together for the foreseeable future-"

"I was lying!" Rimmer screamed, suddenly. The silence that followed was so thick you could have sliced it. Seconds ticked by. A minute. Three.

Finally, Lister echoed, "Lyin' about what?"

"About… About everything."

"Everything?" Lister whispered, "Define everything."

"Not- not like that," Rimmer explained hurriedly, seeing the hurt spark in Lister's eyes. Not that explaining was going to do much to get rid of the hurt, but oh well. The truth must be better than whatever Lister was imagining.

"Like what, then?" Lister wondered if he'd ever speak normally again. His voice seemed to be frozen on its lowest volume – he could barely hear his own words, though Rimmer's were reverberating around his head at eighty miles an hour.

"When- when I woke up, I suppose," Rimmer said, resigning himself to his fate. If Lister didn't completely despise him already, he was going to in a few minutes, "When I said I didn't… feel anything for you."

"So you're sayin'… That you do?" Lister hated himself for the hope present in his tone, but it wouldn't go away – that small glimmer of an emotion he hadn't seen in a fortnight.

"Y-yes," Rimmer's voice faltered, "I do. I'm sorry, Lister. I just- It was too much. I saw a way out and I took it. I'm sorry."

"A… way out?" Lister asked, sinking back into his chair. It felt nice to have something solid beneath him, something to catch him if he had fallen. His mind was having trouble processing Rimmer's words – the hope had been crushed between a merciless rock, and replaced with a numb feeling and something that, if fueled enough, might become anger, "A way out from what? From me?"

"No!" Rimmer protested, then stopped, "M-maybe. I suppose. Not from you, per se." He was stalling, obviously, "From… us."

"From us," Lister repeated, "A way out from us." He appeared to mull it over, then shook his head, "Nope. Still don't see where you're going with this. If you wanted to break up with me, all you had to do was say so."

"I didn't- I don't want that, Listy."

"Then tell me what you do want, Rimmer! 'Cause I don't know anymore! I thought- After everything, I just thought- You loved me."

"I do, Lister, honestly. I got… Scared." The last word was just a mumble. Lister scoffed.

"Scared?! You got scared, Rimmer? You're nothin' but a smegging coward, Arnold Rimmer. Nothing." This one word struck Rimmer the hardest – flashbacks of his mother saying the exact same thing, and of Lister promising that it wasn't true back in the AR suite before everything got so smegging complicated plagued him.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop smeggin' apologizing!" Lister cried, "If you were too much of a coward to admit that your feelings hadn't changed, to put me through hell for two smeggin' weeks, then your apologies mean nothing, Rimmer. It's all pointless. All of this is just so smeggin' pointless!" Lister took a shaky breath before he could find the strength to continue, fighting to keep his voice and words under control, "What were you scared of, exactly?" Lister asked, calm as he was going to get for now.

Rimmer stared at the grimy floor of the Drive room and mumbled, "Of… rejection, of you laughing in my face and saying it was all a joke, and of disappointing my family, and of everything we did being wrong, Lister."

Lister's look of disbelieving exasperation didn't fade as he spoke, ticking each point off on his fingers, "You thought I'd laugh? At what, Rimmer? You really think I'd go that far for some sort of twisted practical joke? Secondly – your family are dead! They've been dead for three million smegging years, Rimmer! They can't be disappointed because they're dead! They're not around to be disappointed! And even if they weren't – even if they were still alive, Rimmer, even if they were on this ship, what would it matter? If you loved me – really, truly loved me – it wouldn't matter what they thought. It's not wrong, Rimmer, how can it be?" Lister asked faintly.

Rimmer just stared at him. The moment seemed to stretch on into eternity. If neither of them moved, Rimmer managed to convince himself, this moment could go on forever. They wouldn't have to fight anymore. They would simply be frozen in time, never speaking, never moving.

But, alas, it had to end, so Rimmer broke the silence himself, "All my life, I was told it was wrong. It wasn't just the taunting, Lister. I would have been able to take that. My parents didn't accept it at all, they wouldn't even listen to me. They just stamped all over the idea that they might have produced a son who wasn't perfect like the other three. A son who was gay, Lister. My father wouldn't hear of it. So he dealt with it the only way he knew how to. Beat me black and blue until I'd have said anything just to make it stop."

Lister didn't say anything. He believed that if he spoke, he'd end up forgiving Rimmer for everything. He'd step forwards and throw his arms around the other man – and he couldn't bring himself to do that, not yet, not after everything Rimmer had put him through. So he sat, rooted to his chair, and let him continue.

"I couldn't take it anymore, Listy, seeing what I was doing to you. Every day I only made it worse in the hope that you'd completely blame me and just come out with it and tell me that you hated me, just so I'd get what I deserved. But you didn't. And every day, I lived with the knowledge that I'd lost you, and I couldn't do it anymore. So I told Holly everything."

"I don't know what you expect me to say," Lister said, emotionless. Rimmer thought about it. What did he expect Lister to say? What could he possibly say, under the circumstances? That everything would be all right? That he still loved Rimmer, despite everything? He didn't expect Lister to say any of these things, so he just shook his head.

"I don't know, either," Rimmer whispered. He watched Lister stand, slightly unsteady on his feet, and wobble a few feet closer to the door.

"I'll make it up to you, Listy. I'll prove to you that I'm not always a coward, if it's the last thing I do," Rimmer vowed.

He just hoped he could live up to his promise.


	10. Chapter Ten

Lister wasn't sure how he made it to Starbug's cockpit - he was trembling all over and his knees felt like they were going to give way as he stumbled through a maze of corridors to where the small green vessel was waiting – but he did it. He also managed, somehow, to pull all the right levers to get the craft into the air, and maneuvered Starbug out of Red Dwarf's landing bay and into the waiting sky.

He had no idea where he was going, but he had needed to get away, and right now, Red Dwarf somehow didn't seem large enough to hide in, despite its expanse of decks and rooms. The atmosphere as he had left the Drive room had been stifling, and somehow, everyone had ended up in a small confined area – Holly had appeared on one of the screens and attempted to say 'I told you so', he had run into Kryten as he was legging it down a set of stairs, and had almost tripped over the Cat, who was sorting through a pile of colourful fabrics on the floor and muttering something about needing to find a bigger wardrobe. For a ship with only four crew members and a senile computer, it was ridiculously difficult to get a minute of privacy.

Lister's lack of concentration and a co-pilot meant that Starbug had veered wildly out of control no less than six times in ten minutes. Even when his head was clear enough to pay attention to the controls, because he was the only one manning the vehicle, he had to keep leaning over to reach the buttons on his right whilst at the same time wrestling with the controls in front of him.

While Lister was busy hurtling through deep space, Rimmer was still standing in the Drive room of Red Dwarf with his head in his hands, trying to erase the past half an hour from his memory. Lister's words still haunted him, still echoed in his mind. Nothing. Lister had been right – he was nothing, he meant nothing. How could he have done this to the person he loved most? After everything they had been through together. Everything they had done together.

Rimmer cursed himself. Now even the memory of that was ruined. That was where it had all begun, anyway. He couldn't bear to think back to that day, when Lister had somehow made him feel better even though he had thought the end was coming and then they had-

Rimmer remembered how amazing it had been. Letting go of everything and allowing himself to be with another man without feeling an ounce of regret…

And then, somehow, everything had gone wrong, and they had rushed him to the medi-bay, and although he could hear everything that was going on, he couldn't do a damn thing to take the worry out of Lister's voice while Kryten explained what was going to happen. Lister had been holding his hand. But, as Kryten had explained that there was a chance that Rimmer could wake up and not feel anything for Lister, he had known, deep down, that it wasn't true. That his feelings wouldn't change. He had felt something for Lister ever since they had met, he just hadn't been able to admit it to himself back then. But Kryten's words had forced Rimmer to think… To think about all those times his parents had told him to shut up whenever he had broached the subject of his sexuality. All the times they'd warned him that if he didn't bring a girl home next summer, they'd set him up with one of his cousins. That awful day when he had first told them, bared his soul to his whole family only to have his father drag him upstairs and away from the table and start laying into him…

And he couldn't do it. He wasn't brave enough to leave all of that behind. There was an obvious escape route, and when he had woken up in the medi-bay with Lister by his side, trying awfully hard not to remind him that he was just a hologram by placing his hand just above his projection, he had lied. Seeing Lister's face when he had asked 'why are you holding my hand' had killed something inside of Rimmer. But he had done it. He had gone along with it for a whole two weeks. And for what?

Nothing. That one stupid word seemed to be ruling Rimmer's life.

"Holly, where's Lister?" Rimmer turned to the screen above the Drive room's control panel and Holly promptly replied.

"He's taken Starbug and gone off somewhere. There's a planetoid nearby… You want me to check for life signs?"

"Might as well," Rimmer said. He had to find Lister. He had to find him and make things right between them. He had to do something, because he was sick of sitting here and doing nothing.

"Got 'im," Holly announced, and a grainy CCTV image popped up onscreen. The planetoid seemed mostly empty, apart from a lonely-looking Starbug perched atop a desert plain.

"Breathable atmosphere. Number of life forms… one. Looks like he's on his own," Holly said, and Rimmer jumped to his feet.

"Right, I'm going after him."

"Arn, you might not want to do that. He looks like he wants to be on his own. Maybe you should leave him for a bit, let him cool off-"

"I need to see him. I need to do something, Holly-"

"What can you do? You've said sorry about a thousand times, even I'm sick of hearin' it. He'll come around."

"No, he won't!" Rimmer exploded, "I-I've done irreparable things, Holly. I won't be long. If he doesn't want me there, fine, I'll leave. But I'm taking Blue Midget and going to talk to him."

Rimmer had just taken off when Holly reappeared, sounding urgent, "Arnold, there's something you should see…" Another piece of footage, barely discernable from the last, this time showing another craft landing on the planetoid. Three burly figures emerged, casting menacing shadows on the ground below them.

The figures were unmistakably GELFs.

"They're the same ones from that ship a couple of weeks ago. Seems like it's the father of Lister's bride."

"Oh, God, what do they want now?" Rimmer groaned, "Can you contact Lister? Tell him to get the smeg out of there?"

"I've tried, he's not responding. Looks like you're gonna have to go in there," Holly said. Rimmer sighed, flicked a switch on Blue Midget's controls, and commanded, "Put everything we have into the thrusters."

"Right," Holly agreed, "He's left Starbug, he's now on the left side of the planetoid. They seem to be looking for him."

"Do they even know he's there?" Rimmer asked, frowning, "They could just be… refueling." It sounded pathetic even to his own ears, but Rimmer was holding onto the tiny strand of hope as he steered Blue Midget carefully towards the planet Lister was currently inhabiting.

"They've tracked Starbug down there. They've got bazookoids, Arn, lots of 'em, by the looks of it."

Rimmer sighed again. Nothing ever went right. Something always had to get in the way.

Cautiously, Blue Midget began the descent to the planetoid's surface. As soon as the bumpy landing was over with, Rimmer had leapt towards the door, yanked it open, and catapulted himself down the steps.

The area around him was empty. Following Holly's instruction, Rimmer headed towards the left of the planetoid. He spotted the GELF craft a little way away from Starbug, and crouched beside it, concealed in the gloom. From there, he could just glimpse the three GELFs making their way over to a large, flat rock…

Upon which Lister was sat.

Rimmer's heart went into overdrive. There was no way Lister could fend off three huge GELFs by himself. Even with Rimmer's help, it would be almost impossible. Still, he had to try. He refused to just hide there while they… He couldn't bear to think what might happen to him.

Lister didn't even appear to notice the GELFs. He was sitting with his knees drawn to his chest and his chin resting on them, eyes cast downwards. The GELFs grew closer, and Rimmer stepped out from the shadows.

"Lister!" He was surprised that his voice carried that far, to be honest. Lister's head snapped up at the sound of Rimmer's voice, and he finally noticed the GELFs in front of him.

"What the smeg, man?" Lister's moan was a low one, but Rimmer heard it anyway. Before he had time to register what was happening, Rimmer was running as fast as his legs would carry him towards them, prepared to do anything that would mean Lister would be safe…

"Lister, get out of the smegging way!"

The fight – or, rather, scuffle – that followed was mostly one-sided. Lister and Rimmer somehow ended up wedged between the rock that Lister had been sitting on, and a tree behind the rock, while the GELFs struggled to reach either of them.

"How'd you find me?" Lister panted, whilst attempting to snatch a bazookoid from the closest GELF.

"Holly told me where you were. I just wanted to talk to you-" Rimmer cut off, swatting away the butt of a nearby bazookoid, "-but it appears I got more than I bargained for. What do they want, anyway?"

"Revenge, apparently!" Lister replied, struggling to decide whether it was worth the risk of jumping back on the rock to get a better angle, "For killin' my ex-wife."

"You didn't kill her!" Rimmer protested, "It's not your fault she was too stupid to recognize a light switch!"

At this remark, one of the GELFs grunted loudly and reared back, as if attempting to take a run up, and reached for the bazookoid around its neck.

The dead GELFs father spent a minute searching for the trigger on the bazookoid, and then steadied himself enough to aim the gun at Rimmer.

Lister, still wedged behind the rock, watched on helplessly as the GELF squeezed the trigger.

He could only scream as Rimmer fell, and attempt to cushion the fall with his own arms.

It seemed that having Rimmer lying, bleeding in his grasp was even worse than not having him at all.


	11. Chapter Eleven

This was turning out to be one of the rare moments in which Lister had absolutely no idea what to do. Usually there was always a back-up plan, always something to get them out of whatever mess they found themselves in, but not this time. This time there was no-one around to help. It was just he and Rimmer, stuck on this godforsaken planetoid with three huge GELFs with guns.

The fact that Rimmer wasn't even conscious was just another thing to add to the growing list of why this was turning out to be an awful day.

Lister, who had reasoned that the entire smegging mess was his fault – he was the one who had thrown a tantrum and stormed off, and Rimmer had had the decency to come looking for him even after all the insults he had thrown at him – realized that unless he did something, and soon, they were both going to die. But there wasn't actually much he could do – the rock in front of him was too large to climb over from the angle he was stuck at, and the GELFs had moved so they were blocking either side. He was unarmed – not that being in possession of a single bazookoid would be much good against the three looming figures.

Things were certainly looking bleak.

Desperately, Lister looked down to where he had positioned Rimmer on the ground, away from any more potential harm. There was no way he could leave him here while he went to get the others, but how could he drag him along while he made a run for it?

Time seemed to slow down as Lister made his decision. There was only one thing for it. Acting on instinct, Lister darted to the right and jumped up onto the rock so quickly the nearest GELF didn't have time to track his movement, and as he made the jump off the rock and onto the ground again, snatched the bazookoid from around its neck.

So far, so good, Lister thought, pleased with himself. He fired a few rounds off into the startled GELF and watched triumphantly as it fell, his smile fading a little at the edges when the other two swiveled their guns to point them directly at his chest. He was running out of ammo, and he needed to either run so that he could lose them or use the remaining bullets to fend them off.

Lister was at a close enough range to empty the remaining ammunition into the second GELF. It wouldn't be enough to finish it off, but for now it would have to do. While it was injured, he took the other bazookoid from its outstretched hands and turned on the final GELF, who was smirking and facing him off with its own bazookoid raised. Lister didn't think, he just fired. He didn't take his finger off the trigger until both GELFs were well and truly dead, and even when the last bullet had left the chamber he didn't move, just listened to the bazookoid chamber revolving.

Then he remembered Rimmer, and sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him around the back of the rock to crouch by his side.

"Rimmer? Arnold, can you hear me?" Lister begged, praying for some sign that he had been heard, a flicker of recognition. Nothing. He might as well have been locked in a soundproof room.

"We need to get back to Starbug, man, just… I'm gonna lift you, alright?" Lister waited a second, as if Rimmer was going to give him permission in his current state. He sighed heavily and stooped to pick his limp form up in his arms. Smeg, he wasn't sure he could make it all the way back to Starbug with Rimmer balanced in his arms.

Lister stumbled around the rock that had simultaneously been a prison and a refuge and headed across the barren planetoid. He could just about make out Starbug's form from back here, but it had to be at least half a mile away.

With every step he took, Lister's legs felt closer and closer to giving way beneath him. When did it get so smegging hot? He was sure the sun hadn't been directly overhead a few minutes ago.

Rimmer's blood was dripping through Lister's fingers, he realized with a jolt after glancing down at his arm and seeing it coated in the scarlet liquid. This fact unnerved him, and made him all the more eager to return to Starbug, where at least he could call for help. How could this be happening? He couldn't let Rimmer die after saying all those things to him. He couldn't. Rimmer hadn't deserved any of it, not really. It wasn't as if he had lied just to spite Lister.

He sighed again, getting more and more desperate as time passed. Just a few more yards at he would be at Starbug's door. A few more steps. A few inches.

And he'd done it, finally. He yanked the door open and collapsed inside, laying Rimmer down carefully in the co-pilot's seat and throwing himself into the pilot's. He summoned Holly on the screen and she appeared, looking mildly irritated.

"Haven't you two sorted out your differences yet?" she muttered angrily before noticing Rimmer, "Oh. You want me to alert Kryten?"

"Yeah, Hol. We're getting the smeg out of here. Should be back on Red Dwarf in a few minutes."

"S'pose you've forgiven him, then?" Holly wondered as Lister directed Starbug into the air. He spoke through gritted teeth when he could finally find the words.

"Course I have," he muttered, feeling ashamed of himself. He shouldn't have left Rimmer alone and feeling guilty. It wasn't fair. That last comment, about proving himself to Lister had made him feel awful, but he'd gone anyway, leaving Rimmer to conjure God-knows what in his head while he sauntered off in Starbug.

It wasn't as if he could blame him, really. Things had been moving too fast. It had all gotten desperate and messy, spiraling out of control before either of them had a chance to grasp what was happening. And after all that stuff with his parents… Rimmer could hardly be to blame. But he'd gone ahead and done it anyway.

Lister glanced over at Rimmer, who, if you ignored the blood, could just as easily have been sleeping. Switching quickly to auto-pilot, which sparked a few more complaints from Holly, Lister reached over to Rimmer and fumbled for a pulse. He nearly fainted from relief when he found one – barely there, but there all the same.

"Hol, is there anythin' I can do?" he asked weakly, turning to the computer.

"I'm tryin' to pilot 'ere, d'you expect me to do everything at once?!"

"You're meant to have an IQ of six thousand!" Lister protested, and before she could come back with a comment about computer senility, snapped, "Just think, Holly, is there anything I can do right now to help?"

She seemed to be lost in thought for a second, and then widened her eyes. Lister could almost see a cartoon light bulb flickering on above her head.

"Put pressure on it," Holly decided after a further moment of deliberation, "I s'pose really you should get the shrapnel out, but I don't think you can really do that with just your hands, can you?" Lister stopped listening to her ridiculous musings and stripped off his shirt to use as a makeshift bandage. Rimmer stirred a little, but didn't wake.

"It's gonna be all right, Rimmer, we're almost back. Kryten'll fix you up, it'll be fine…" Lister's words weren't even doing anything to reassure himself, so he hated to think how Rimmer felt. That was, if he could even hear him. What if he never woke up? What if he died right here in Starbug with Lister leaning over him? What if he never got to apologize for leaving him?

Thankfully, though, Holly directed Starbug into Red Dwarf's landing bay before Rimmer had the chance to leave Lister alone. He was on his feet in an instant, pausing to scoop Rimmer into his arms again before bounding out of the door.

"Almost there, Arn, just hang on.." Lister whispered, rounding the corner to where Kryten was waiting like an anxious mother hen in the medi-bay. He squealed when he saw the state of them both, and hurried round to assist Lister in putting Rimmer down. He shooed him away before he could ask anything, directing him to the sink to wash the blood away from his arms and then out of the medi-bay to sit with the Cat while Kryten worked on Rimmer.

"But- Kryten, is he gonna be okay?! I need to stay with him-"

"Mr. Lister, sir, I must insist that you leave me in peace. You've had a shock, you should go and have a lie down and some tea-"

"Kryten, you don't understand, I need to know that he's okay-"

But Kryten hadn't taken no for an answer, and had ushered Lister into his sleeping quarters where the Cat was already waiting, fiddling with a selection of new fabrics. He barely glanced up when Lister entered the room and flopped onto Rimmer's old bunk, dropping his head into his hands.

"What am I gonna do, man?" he muttered, refusing to look up from the floor.

"I don't know, buddy. I mean, the trousers and jacket combo is one thing, but for another, you bringin' Goal-Post Head back means that we're gonna be stuck with him for even longer this time!"

"This is all my fault…" Lister mumbled, completely ignoring the Cat. He stretched out on the bottom bunk with his back to the room. A few minutes passed and Lister grew so restless he jumped back off the bed and began to pace the room.

"What if he doesn't pull through, man?" he moaned, rubbing his temples. The Cat shrugged.

"Well I have some party poppers downstairs. D'you want to do the balloons or the food?"

Lister rolled his eyes and didn't stop pacing, nervous energy trickling off him in waves, "I shouldn't have just run off like that. I shouldn't just be sitting in here waitin' for news like some smeggin' hospital drama! Kryten-!" Lister called, poking his head through the doorway. Kryten's voice floated along the corridor and reached him, "I'm still not finished, Mr. Lister!"

So that was that. He had no choice but to sit around watching the Cat hold each individual fabric sample up to the light before placing them back on the table like a crazy dance routine.

XXX

It seemed like days had passed when Kryten finally returned to the bunkroom, looking exhausted (if it were even possible for a mechanoid to be tired) but triumphant. Lister was on his feet in an instant.

"Is he okay? Can I see him? Is he alive?"

"I'm afraid that Mr. Rimmer still remains a hologram, Mr. Lister, sir, but I've managed to stabilize him and I've removed most of the shrapnel. He's just in the medi-bay now, sir. It might take a while for the anaesthetic to wear off, but you can sit with him if you'd like-"

Without giving him time to finish, Lister was out of there like a shot, hightailing it down the corridor to the medi-bay. He found Rimmer just waking up on one of the tables and rushed over, giddy with anticipation and relief. He was okay! Rimmer was alive – or as alive as he was going to get – and they were safe and everything was going to be okay-

"Lister?" Rimmer's voice was weak as he opened his eyes, one first and then the other. Lister pulled up a chair to sit by Rimmer's side.

"Hey, man. How're you feelin'?"

"Tired," Rimmer replied, and then, as if to illustrate his point, yawned hugely. Lister grinned.

"But you're okay?"

"Yes. Thanks to you," Rimmer smiled, "Thank you for saving me."

"Couldn't just leave you to bleed out, could I?" Lister asked, slipping his hand into Rimmer's and trying desperately not to think of the last time they had been in this position.

Rimmer's expression turned serious, "You could have," he muttered, "I probably would have deserved it."

"Look, just forget about that now, okay? You're safe, it's all right. D'you want me to get you anythin'? A glass of water?"

"N-no, it's fine," Rimmer said, "Listen, I need to talk to you."

"What is it, man?" Lister asked, still gripping Rimmer's hand like a lifeline. Rimmer took a breath and looked into Lister's eyes, slightly afraid of what he would find there but determined all the same.

"I understand if you don't want us to be together after everything that's happened between us. And I won't blame you if you hate me, Lister. I won't blame you if you never want to speak to me again. I just wanted you to know that… if you wanted… I do love you, you know."

"Rimmer… I'm not gonna lie, I was angry. I might've even hated you for a few minutes. But I can't hate you forever, Arn. I couldn't even hate you for a smegging hour. I understand why you did what you did, and I don't blame you for it. And… I love you, too."

This was all Rimmer needed to hear. He propped himself up on one elbow, wincing at a slight twinge in his chest where the bullet had struck, and leaned in towards Lister. The pain ebbed away as soon as he pressed his lips to the other man's. Neither of them noticed when Kryten entered the room. They could have stayed like that, in fact, for the at least an hour longer, but the mechanoid was batting them away from each other and muttering about how strenuous activity could displace the stitches.

The Cat seemed to be the only one put out by the fact that Rimmer was still around. He'd actually groaned when he'd entered the medi-bay to find them with their tongues down each others' throats, and backed out of there as quickly as possible.

But it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered, because they had each other. And if either one had ever been sure of anything, it was this.

They would never let the other go.


	12. Epilogue

Three million years into deep space, Dave Lister couldn't sleep.

The reason for this came in the form of his bunkmate and boyfriend, Arnold Rimmer, who, at the moment, was nibbling at the skin below Lister's earlobe and making small contented noises as Lister pulled him into a passionate kiss.

They had been officially an item for three months. Since that day in the medi-bay, Rimmer had mostly healed up, the bullet wound now just a pinkish scar just underneath his collarbone after weeks of Lister and Kryten waiting on him hand and foot (sometimes literally, if Rimmer decided it was time for a foot massage). Now he was down to taking a few painkillers a day, and was feeling well enough to keep Lister awake with touches that brought moans from his lips.

There were murmurs of 'I love you' from both parties as Lister rolled onto his back with one hand on Rimmer's shoulder and the other lost in a mound of bedsheets along with a leg and part of a foot. Except for a moment when Rimmer managed to hit his head on the bunk above them, which lead to Lister saying that they really did need to switch quarters soon and a series of kisses from his partner that clearly stated 'shut up', the operation went smoothly.

Afterwards, Rimmer lay on his side of the bunk and watched Lister's chest rising and falling slowly. He didn't think he'd ever felt this good in his entire life. He'd never felt so loved or so wanted before. He never wanted this feeling to end, and as Lister smiled lazily at him whilst tracing long, slow circles on his shoulder, he felt like the luckiest man in the universe.

Lister, meanwhile, couldn't get over how much they had both changed recently. Rimmer was so much less of a smeghead now – he was almost nice most of the time, even to the Cat and Kryten. It just went to show how a little bit of affection could change a person. Lister swore to himself that he'd never let Rimmer feel unloved or unwanted ever again. Just seeing Rimmer smile turned Lister's lips up at the edges, too. The feeling of elation in his own heart seemed like it was enough to flow from him to Rimmer, and as he extended a hand to stroke Rimmer's curls, he wasn't sure if he had ever felt as lucky as this before.

One thing was certain – there were going to be a hell of a lot more sleepless nights to come.


End file.
